Homecoming: Bitter and Sweet
by Tulip Proudfoot
Summary: *COMPLETE* More detail about what actually happens during the Scouring of the Shire. MAJOR deviation from JRR afterwards. *Final Reviews Please*
1. Homecoming

Rating: PG (V)  
  
Pick up story after the killing of Saruman, Grima Wormtongue and the rousting of Sharkey's men in the chapter titled "The Scouring of the Shire" in Book III: The Return of the King.  
  
1 Chapter 1: Homecoming  
  
November 3rd S.R. 1419  
  
It was worse than they could have ever imagined. Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriodoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took had arrived in the Shire only two days earlier. But instead of their familiar somewhat sleepy and comfortable homeland they found a burned, twisted and maimed parody of normalcy.  
  
Restoring order to their beloved Shire involved dismissing the ill-organized Shirriffs and rousing the Shirefolk into an armed revolt against their foreign overlords. Blood had been spilt on Shire land. Frodo had tried to diffuse the tense situation between the now-angry hobbit population and the swaggering Men brought in from the South by the Chief. But to no avail. Merry and Pippin were forced into actual fighting and killing the ruffians at Bywater. More shockingly still, some hobbits had been killed in the defense of the Shire. Emotions were running high in the Shire with most able-bodied hobbits armed and eager to join in the battle. Bows and axes which had previously been used only for hunting and farm work were now turned against Men. Swords which had lain quietly tucked away in storage chests and mathom houses were now openly worn at the hip. The Shire had finally awoken to vent its anger.  
  
After dealing with the ruffians, the four friends journeyed to Bag End to confront the source of the evil; Sharkey. This proved to be none other than Saruman the great Wizard. He had been defeated and defrocked by his fellow Wizard and friend of the hobbits, Gandalf. But Saruman blamed Frodo for his own misfortunes. Saruman nursed a terrible and lasting anger against Frodo, and so had come to Frodo's very home, defiling the Shire with his malevolence and madness. In the end Saruman was killed by his own assistant, Grima Wormtongue, who was in turn killed by the vengeful Hobbiton populace. All this had taken place on the very doorsteps of Frodo's beloved Bag End home.  
  
Frodo's thoughts turned inward again. He desperately wanted peace and tranquility, but this was denied him time and time again. Every time he was exposed to violence, he felt a little more of his own composure slipping away into uncontrollable depression and anger. Blood on his doorstep. Blood on his hands. Poison in his very veins. Would the evil ever end? The thought of living in this gory place was abhorrent. He couldn't stand to be at Bag End right at that moment. Tom Cotton volunteered to take care of the bodies and blood.  
  
"Steady old Farmer Cotton," thought Frodo. "There's a hard vein of stalwartness in even the most rural hobbit when put to the test." It was just then that the putrid remains of Lotho Sackville-Baggins was discovered in one of Bag End's shacks.  
  
With the main source of the evil removed, the friends next turned their attention to rescuing hobbits imprisoned under Sharkey's orders. Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin and a good number of the Hobbiton populace traveled to Micheldelving where the Lockholes were located.  
  
The only resistance offered was a lone hobbit Shirriff holding the keys to the Lockholes. Upon seeing the mob, he quickly removed his Shirriff's hat and handed the keys to Merry before slipping in with the crowd.  
  
The first hobbit liberated from the Lockholes was Will Whitfoot, Mayor of Hobbiton. The old hobbit was delighted to see light again, but was too frail to walk out on his own. As Pippin and Merry locked arms and carried the elderly statesman out, a cheer spontaneously erupted from the crowd. Tears welled up in the Mayor's eyes. Next was Frodo's good friend, Fredigar Bolger, otherwise known as Fatty. That nickname was quickly dropped as Fredigar was carried out by Merry and Pippin. Fredigar has lost a tremendous amount of weight while in prison. But he smiled bravely and even jested with Pippin. The rest of the rebel hobbits were lead out of the Lockholes to much cheering and hurrahs.  
  
Even though he was clearly unwell, the Mayor cleared his throat and waved his hands to silence the crowd. A politician to the last, Mayor Whitfoot was ever ready to preside at any public occasion.  
  
"Dearest Gentlehobbits," the Mayor said, "Justice has triumphed over injustice and we can see the light again."  
  
This met with great ovation and applause. Merry winked at Pippin as they stood beside the Mayor, supporting him. Sam and Frodo stood to one side, supporting Fredigar.  
  
"However," the Mayor continued, "I regret that I cannot today resume my duties as your Mayor. Please continue to give your undivided support to these fine young lads while I recover."  
  
A voice from the crowd cried out, "But your Mayorship, sir. Who will be Mayor until you're all better?"  
  
"I nominate young Master Baggins to fill in as Deputy Mayor until such time as I can resume my duties," the Mayor replied. Once again the crowd burst into cheers. Frodo wasn't too pleased with the way this was going. He already had enough to do, and now he had to be a politician? But seeing how the crowd was in a fey mood, he reluctantly agreed.  
  
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was another of the hobbits liberated from the Lockholes. Up until her arrest, no one in the Shire much liked the ancient hobbitess. But when she stood up to Sharkey's Men and called them cowards to their faces, her standing in the community suddenly took a turn for the better. Even so, it hit the old lady hard to learn of her son's death at the hands of Grima Wormtongue. Luckily, by the time everyone arrived back at Hobbiton and Bywater, Farmer Cotton and his sons had finished burying the remains from Bag End.  
  
Fredigar invited Merry and Pippin to stay with him until they could find more permanent lodgings. It was a great relief for Frodo to know that Fredigar would have someone to care for him during his convalescence. Many Shire folk were obliged to share living quarters that autumn and winter, since Sharkey's Men had destroyed most hobbit holes and dwellings in and around Hobbiton and Bywater. Farmer Cotton invited Sam and Frodo to room with them at the farm house just outside of Bywater.  
  
A small group consisting of Frodo, Sam, and Merry escorted Lobelia to her ruined home on the Hill. The ancient Sackville- Baggins was stricken with grief to see the small, pitiful grave of her only son and heir. Now she had no one to turn to, save her blood relatives on the Bracegirdle side of the family. "Ashes and dust," she bitterly thought. "Bag End was cursed from the start. I should have never urged Lotho to take it. Evil dragon's gold and unpredictable adventurers. Now it's doubly cursed with slaughter and regret. I'll have naught to do with it anymore."  
  
"Frodo Baggins," the old hobbitess croaked, leaning heavily on a cane. "Frodo, come here."  
  
Frodo dutifully attended his distantly-related great-aunt.  
  
"Frodo Baggins," she said, "I freely give you Bag End, its lands, and all contents of buildings on the property. There is nothing here for me except regrets and bitterness. Do what you will with it. It was always yours anyway. Yours and Bilbo's. I'm tired and old and my son has been murdered. Do one last thing for me. Take me home to what family remains to me."  
  
Frodo asked Pippin to arrange for a pony cart, if one could be found. That very evening he and Sam escorted his great-aunt to her ancestral home at Hardbottle. While Sam tended to the pony, Frodo made sure Lobelia had a room of her own and would be taken care of until her death. It was well past midnight when they returned to Farmer Cotton's house. Rose Cotton had stayed up to make sure her two guests were properly greeted. She met them at the door with steaming mugs of tea to warm their hands and dinner to fill their bellies. The sight of her waiting for him at the doorway warmed Sam's heart and soul. He was finally at home now. But for Frodo, the night brought only darkness and loneliness. 


	2. Taking Stock

Chapter Rating: G  
  
Chapter 2: Taking Stock  
  
November 4th S.R. 1419  
  
The morning dawned clear and cool after a brief rain around 4:00am. It was as if the air wished to rid itself of the stench and pollution forced upon it for the past year, and start fresh and new. A cock greeted the sun as he flushed red the remaining clouds.  
  
Mistress Lily Cotton was up with the dawn as well. She always rose at cockcrow to have a hot first breakfast ready for the family. Farming was hard work and required lots of good, solid food. As a result of her ministrations, her family were good, solid hobbits; strong lads used to hard physical work and a well- loved daughter able to take care of anything, be they hobbit or beast. She was justifiably proud of the family, but especially proud this morning of her husband. Everyone called him Tom or Farmer Cotton, but after the events of the past week they were calling him Master Cotton. Her husband's courage and wits had helped save the Shire from Sharkey's ruffians and thugs. Because of his staunch support of Sam, Merry, Pippin and Frodo, the Shirefolk had been awakened to their thralldom, and had rousted their overlords with swift justice and not much mercy.  
  
Sam and Frodo were staying at the Cotton farmhouse until they could find other lodgings. Frodo was given the guest bedroom, as was befitting his higher social status in the Shire. Sam was rooming with the Cotton's youngest son, Carl, who everybody called Nibs. Nibs was only nine years younger than Sam. But Sam's experiences during the Quest had matured him well beyond his years.  
  
Sam was now a veteran of long travels, war and great hardships. He had returned to the Shire quite a different hobbit from the one who so idealistically set off with Frodo over a year ago. Sam was able and quite willing to command others to his biding. The only person to whom he deferred as of old was Frodo. And this was done through love, devotion, and an unspoken trust between the two which brooked differences in age, social status and physical abilities. Sam was changed indeed, but he was still as good-natured and kind as ever. He just wasn't as nieve or unsure of his own abilities as before. Sam had grown.  
  
Pippin and Merry had also grown, but in a much more visible way. They had literally grown several inches taller while on the Quest. They both surpassed even the old height of the near- mythical Bullroarer Took. They cut a grand air of military might never before seen in the Shire. They dressed in their livery of the King of Gondor and the Riders of Rohan, respectively, and rode quite comfortably on large ponies. Pippin was especially taken with wearing his silver and black uniform, complete with crested helmet and shining sword. Merry was more circumspect, blowing his silver horn only when he needed to muster the Shire-militia, which was now firmly under his command. The two friends were also changed by their experiences during the War. Merry had become a much more serious and careful hobbit. He drew on his military experience while riding with the King of Rohan through various battles and bloodshed. He had expertise in setting up military strategies and controlling mobs of people in terrible situations. If it wasn't for the handsome hobbit with the horn, Sharkey's Men would have slaughtered the Hobbiton revolt before it became organized.  
  
Pippin too was permanently changed by what he had seen and done both on the journey and on the battlefields. His quick wit and fun-loving antics were still in tact, but were now tempered with fairness and an un-characteristic compassion for others. He had seen too much bloodshed and had experienced first-hand the agony of self-awareness under the eye of naked evil when he had looked into the Palantier. He never forgot the kindness the great Wizard Gandalf showed him after that terrible night of the seeing stone, and vowed to always show compassion and forgiveness to those younger and less-experienced than he. Pippin was only twenty-nine when the Travelers (as they were known) returned to the Shire, but his new-found wisdom elevated him even beyond his increased physical stature.  
  
Frodo had also come back to the Shire changed. But not in the same ways as had happened to Sam, Merry and Pippin. The changes in Frodo were less physically visible than Merry or Pippin's, but more psychologically profound and disturbing. Folk were quite uncomfortable being around him for very long. But the Shirefolk were a tolerant people who gave Frodo the privacy he craved and needed. They mostly dealt with Merry or Pippin or Sam, and tended to leave Frodo alone unless it was something requiring the Deputy Mayor's attention.  
  
This morning Merry and Pippin came riding up to the Cotton farm on their ponies, dressed in their customary finery. Tom Cotton was already outside, talking with some local families about what had been going on in the Shire.  
  
"Hello Captains Meriodoc and Peregrin," the farmer called out. "Did you have any problems with ruffians while on your way up from Hobbiton?"  
  
"Good morning to you too, Master Cotton," Merry said. "No trouble at all. I've got the Shire-muster out scouting the area for stray Men right now. We should run the whole lot of them out of the entire Shire by Yuletide at the latest. Is Frodo here by any chance?"  
  
Merry and Pippin dismounted and Farmer Cotton's son Nick took their ponies around back to the barn.  
  
"Yes," said Cotton. "Go on inside. He and Sam are in the kitchen planning out some things."  
  
Merry and Pippin found Sam and Frodo at the kitchen table. Frodo had pen and ink and was writing something when they came in.  
  
"Merry! Pippin! Excellent timing, as usual," Frodo said. "We've just finished breakfast and have some leftovers. I've got some official Deputy Mayor papers I need you to sign as well. Please sit down."  
  
"I don't need to sit down in order to eat," said Pippin, grabbing a scone and heaping it with jam. "Hello Sam! How's Rosie?" Pippin winked at Sam, whose ears were beginning to flush pink.  
  
"Pippin, mind your manners," Merry admonished. "What kind of papers, Frodo?"  
  
"Legal papers, Captain Brandybuck," Frodo said. "I'll need you and Pippin to witness the ceding of Bag End to me by Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. She had her relatives draw up the papers last night when Sam and I took her back to Hardbottle. But I need your signatures as witnesses to her oral statement to me yesterday. Sign here," he said to Merry, giving him a quill and ink, "and Pippin, you sign here." Merry and Pippin dutifully signed the documents, then proceeded to divide an apple between them.  
  
"And now, I need Sam to be a witness to the next set of documents," Frodo continued. He produced another set of parchment. This one was in Frodo's own handwriting. "Merry, please read this aloud so that all may hear and bear witness." He handed the document to Merry.  
  
Merry cleared his throat and began reading.  
  
"I, Frodo Baggins of Bag End, Bag Shot Row, Hobbiton in the Shire, on this the fourth day of November, S. R. 1419, do hereby deed the property, houses, out buildings, gardens and real estate of Crickethollow, Buckland East of the Brandywine River, to Master Meriodoc Brandybuck and Master Peregrin Took, recently returned to the Shire and currently abiding in Hobbiton." Merry paused, dumbfounded.  
  
"You're giving us Crickethollow?" Pippin almost choked on the apple.  
  
"Yes," Frodo firmly stated. "I have no use for it now. And you two deserve a place of your own. You shouldn't have to go back to living with your parents, not after all you've been through. So please, please take it as my gift to you. Sam and I will have Bag End after things have settled down and we've repaired it a bit."  
  
Merry still was standing there holding the deed in his hands. Pippin walked over and took it from him, to see for himself that the document was genuine. He was going to be a land-owner! And he wasn't even of age yet! He could hardly contain his elation.  
  
"Well," Sam said, "come on. Let's get this thing signed and witnessed before he changes his mind and I have to fix Crickethollow up too."  
  
The document was signed, dated and inked, as was the copy which was to be sent to the official records house in Micheldelving after the roads were secured. Frodo was satisfied. One less thing for him to worry about.  
  
"And now on to more serious and urgent matters," Frodo said. "Pippin, please do sit down. I'm afraid this is going to take some time and won't be pleasant." Frodo proceeded to detail a list of problems facing the Shire as a result of Sharkey's intrusion.  
  
Hobbiton was a wasted ruin of a town. The Water, its river and main source of water, was polluted with filth spewing out of Ted Sandyman's new Mill. What had once been a simple, clean grist mill had been turned into a smoke-and-liquid waste spewing factory. Most homes along The Water now had to get their drinking water from springs located a few miles upriver. The Green Dragon Inn and its associated businesses (including the Hobbiton Apothecary, Tandy's blacksmith shop, the woodworker's shop, the butcher, the tailor and the bakery) were a jumbled ruin of burned and broken rubble. The great party tree in Celebration Field had been cut down and left to rot. Bag End was mostly intact, but had been partially dug up and was in shambles. The great tree at Bag End had also been cut down. This had weakened the structure of all hobbit holes on Bag Shot Row, causing most of them to collapse into a newly dug sandpit. All Hobbiton gardens and surrounding greenways were destroyed. There were still ruffians and the remnant of Sharkey's Men roaming the Shire, causing death and destruction as they fought the populace who had turned against them. And some of the hobbit Shirriffs were still operating as if they ran the Shire and were still taking orders from Men. The list was agonizing to write.  
  
"We can't take care of all this," said Pippin. "It's too much for the four of us!"  
  
"We don't have to take care of all of it all at once," said Sam. "Let's figure out what needs to get done quickest and get that done. Then we can come back and take care of the rest later."  
  
"Well, I can think of a way to take care of the problems of the Shirriffs and the ruffians in one blow," said Merry. "Frodo, since you're Deputy Mayor, you can reduce the number of Shirriffs with a simple proclamation. Then give me and Pip the authority to use the Shirriffs to raise the Shire-muster to hunt down and rid the Shire of the remaining ruffians."  
  
"Right," said Frodo. "I think you and Pippin will have to split up your duties though. Merry, why don't you oversee the East Farthing and Buckland, seeing as how you're from there. Pippin, I'm counting on you to handle the West and Southern Farthings. Make sure you get your hobbits from your father, the Thain. I don't think there's any danger in the North Farthing at this time, but we can deal with that later if we need to. Our greatest danger comes from the South and East. Tom Cotton brought in word this morning that there are still gangs of Men in the South Farthing, and I'm sure there will continue to be more of them trying to infiltrate the Shire over Sarn Crossing. They will probably also try to enter via the Brandywine Bridge on the East Road from Bree, or across Buckleberry Ferry. Merry, let's leave the gates and stronghouses Saruman built there for the time being. Perhaps we can turn some of his evil to good protection for the Shire.  
  
Sam, it's imperative that Hobbiton has access to proper housing and clean water before winter sets in. And we don't know where all the food went during Saruman's occupation. Can you organize this? We can't let our people freeze or starve to death."  
  
"You can count on me, Mister Frodo," Sam said. "I'll get Farmer Cotton and his sons to help with the work. Once we let everyone know it's safe to come out of their houses again, the whole town will pitch in and help out. You'll see. They're good folk, Shirefolk are."  
  
"Don't forget to include the lasses too," Frodo said. "Rose can probably help locate where the foodstuffs and supplies are. I hope everyone's hidden something away somewhere, or else we're going to have to ask Rivendale for emergency supplies."  
  
Frodo wrote out the official proclamation reducing the number and function of the Shirriffs back to their original levels. These he sent out for posting throughout the Shire. Merry returned to Crickethollow in Buckland and from there oversaw organizing the remaining Shirriffs and Shire militia to roust the rest of the ruffians and southern gangs. Pippin traveled to his home at the Great Smials of Tookborough. The Thain gave him sturdy hobbit of the Shire-muster to use in securing his territory.  
  
Fredigar Bolger and Frodo began the sad task of cleaning out Bag End to be used as Frodo's office.  
  
Sam started his work by organizing the dismantling of everything built by Sharkey's Men. When word got out about the rebuilding, all available hands in Hobbiton, Bywater and Bag End assembled in front of Sam as he stood outside the burned-out shell of the Green Dragon Inn. Close to two thousand hobbits of all ages waited in silence for Samwise Gamgee's words.  
  
"Tear it all down," Sam said through clinched teeth. "It weren't good workmanship to begin with. It ain't no good to no one, and only produces filth and garbage. Tear everything made by Sharkey's Men down and burn it in the center of town. Save the bricks and stone. We'll use them later to rebuild Hobbiton and Bywater. We'll need all the lumber we can find or cut. I fear it might be a harsh winter." 


	3. Bag End

Rating: PG-13 (Scary images)  
  
1 Chapter 3: Bag End  
  
November 6th  
  
It was very difficult knowing where to begin the clean-up of Bag End. The hobbit hole itself was still mostly intact, thanks to Lotho Sackville-Baggins and later Saruman using it as their headquarters. But Bag Shot Row itself was in shambles. Most of the row had been turned into a vast sandpit and covered with mean tar shacks. Even Sam's beloved Bag End gardens had been torn to pieces and polluted. Frodo and Fredegar Bolger stood on the doorstep of Bag End looking into the gloom and wreckage.  
  
The two friends decided to cleaned out Bilbo's old front study first. Frodo said he would use it as a his study, a common meeting room for the work going on in the Shire, and as a Deputy Mayoral office. From the study Frodo would oversee plans for restoration of the Shire.  
  
Frodo and Sam continued to reside at Farmer Cotton's large country farm house. Frodo was using of the guest rooms in the rear of the house. Sam shared a room with Nibs Cotton. Frodo, Fredigar, Sam and Rosie went over to Bag End each day to help with the restoration of the Shire.  
  
At 3:00 Fredigar took his leave. He had been one of the first hobbits incarcerated in the Lockholes during the Shire's occupation by Sharkey's Men. He was "Fatty" no longer, having suffered greatly while locked up. He was so weak from near- starvation and infrequent beatings that Merry and Pippin had to carry the poor hobbit out of the Lockholes. A few days rest and lots of good solid hobbit cooking from his mother had greatly improved his constitution. But he nursed a lasting hatred for the Big Folk who had beat him mercilessly. They never even asked him questions. They simply throttled him before tossing him back in his cell. He suspected the abuse was ordered by Sharkey because Fredigar was a well-known friend of Frodo Baggins. But Fredigar would never be certain that was the reason for the abuse. He never blamed Frodo for his ill- treatment at the hands of the ruffians. Frodo was his friend. But Fredigar also never forgave the hobbit Shirriffs who looked the other way for the long months of his incarceration.  
  
Frodo told him that hatred and thoughts of revenge were not the way to find peace, but Fredigar's heart was too full of justifiable indignation to listen. And besides, it didn't seem to him that Frodo had found any solace himself. Today Fredigar was just tired with the physical labor of cleaning out Bag End. Fredigar said he would be back the next day. Frodo continued the work.  
  
As the sun set Frodo wiped his hands on a dirty rag and pulled the front door shut. The once bright green round door was all slashed and hacked. Foul words were carved into the wood. The hole's front door was also embellished with the faded caricature of a hand painted in whitewash. The ruffians had even stripped the doorbell off its bracing, stomping the poor bell into a flat almost-unrecognizable lump of rusted metal. All about were piles of debris taken out of the smial. Some were pieces of furniture broken and fouled with nasty-smelling oils. Other piles were of rugs and clothing stained with who-knew-what and slashed to ribbons. It was all pitiful. Frodo pulled his cloak tight against the bitter North wind as he tramped back to the Cotton farm.  
  
That night Frodo suffered one of his many recurring nightmares. He was back at Weathertop, reliving the attack by the Ringwraths and the Pale King. They were there to wrest the Ring from him and take him to Mordor. He already had the Ring on his finger and could clearly see their ghostly forms, shredded robes and poisoned blades. He was surrounded. They shrieked of torture in Barad-dur. They would skin him alive slowly, painfully, saving his ring finger till the last. Frodo stumbled and fell backwards onto rough stones. The Pale King stabbed him. Frodo couldn't stifle a cry of torment. The pain was unbearably cold and bitter like being burned with acid. But this time Aragorn, Sam, Pippin and Merry were nowhere to be found. There was no help. No rescue this time. Only the deadly sword and an agonizing descent into the twilight world of the undead. He was transfixed by the gaze of the Pale King. The Nazgul twisted the blade still in his shoulder, causing it to snap at the tip. Frodo screamed with renewed pain, anguish and despair. He was helpless - small and terrified of both the Pale King and of himself. He lusted to command the Ring even though he knew its fatal consequences. Its lure was overwhelming. He had no choice! As the Pale King reached out his skeletal hand to claim the Precious, Frodo suddenly awoke. His heart was racing and he was sweating. It was dark and the house quiet save for his own labored breathing. For a moment he didn't know where he was. Then his left shoulder began to ache.  
  
Frodo got out of bed and put on his clothes. He decided to go outside into the crisp night air to take his mind off the nightmare. Almost unconsciously he armed himself with his sword, Sting and then slipped on his travel-worn Elvish cloak. Its familiar weight was somehow comforting. As he was heading down the hallway towards the front door, Sam came out of his bedroom.  
  
"Mister Frodo, sir?" Sam whispered. "Are you all right? I thought I heard you cry out. Or is one of them ruffians still about?"  
  
"I am fine, Sam," Frodo lied. "I just could not sleep and thought a little walk outside would help relax me. Don't worry. Go on back to sleep. I will be back shortly."  
  
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Sam asked, noticing the sword at Frodo's side but saying nothing.  
  
"No thanks, Sam. That is kind of you to offer, but I really prefer to be alone with my thoughts. Now get back to bed before you catch cold or wake up someone."  
  
Sam reluctantly went back into his bedroom as Frodo headed outside. The night air was near freezing. Dead leaves swirled around in the bitter breeze. The moon was at full, casting long shadows over the bleak late autumn landscape. Frodo unconsciously started walking towards Hobbiton. It was a depressing walk. All the familiar trees and hedgerows were gone. In their place were weird stumps, burnt-out piles of rubble, and twisted earthworks foully grimacing black in the night. As he rounded a bend in the road, a lump abruptly came to his throat. He saw the ruins of Bag Shot Row. All was dark. No twinkling candlelight greeted the solitary traveler on the road. No graceful siluettes of stately trees. No sound of farm or pasture animals. Saruman's rape of the Hill stood out in stark relief against the bright midnight sky.  
  
Frodo stood and stared at what used to be his home. A tear started down his thin weary face. "This is worse than the nightmare I was having," he thought. Of all the terrible trials he had to endure, this one hit the hardest. It was his own home which had been vandalized and maimed. Bag End was now the visible manifestation of his own ruined and wounded body and mind. He realized he could never truly come back to the Shire. He could only attempt to rebuild and restore Bag End. But it would never be the same.  
  
"I'll never be the same either." The thought came in a bitter hail of pent-up emotions. "Perhaps I shouldn't even try to repair things. Perhaps I should just burn down Bag End and then leave the Shire."  
  
He sat down on a blackened stump thrown against the side of the road and stared at Bag End in despair. The numbing cold wind moaned in the night, whistling through fallow fields and bracken. His left shoulder ached in sympathy with his dark thoughts. Then Frodo's hand moved to the slender silver chain hanging around his neck. He brought out the white gem given to him by Arwen Evenstar. It glowed softly in the night, illuminating his hand and face, bringing warmth and comfort even in the darkest moment of his doubt.  
  
Frodo sighed and clutched the gem in his maimed hand. "Well, it's a bitter thing, but I know my mission is not quite finished. And I must complete this one as well. If not for myself, then at least for Sam and Merry and Pippin and all the others who are counting on me. I'll set things right and then maybe I can find a place where I can find some peace and relief from the pain and weariness. But I don't think it will be at Bag End, or Crickethollow, or anywhere else in the Shire." He returned the gem to its familiar place next to his heart. It was the same place where he used to keep the Ring.  
  
As he stood and turned to go back down the road, a twinkle of light caught his eye. It was as if the light was aimed directly at him. It was from somewhere in Hobbiton, out back slightly from the main business area. Someone else in Hobbiton could not sleep that night. 


	4. Winter Approaches

Rating: G  
  
Chapter 4: Winter Approaches  
  
November 7th S.R. 1419  
  
The day started out with frost on the pumpkins. The Cotton family were busy with harvest. Mrs. Cotton and Rosie cleaned out the root cellar in preparation for winter vegetable storage. By first light Tom Cotton and his four sons were in the fields. As expected, Sam went with them. They were glad for his strong back and unfailing strength. Sam had wanted to work with Frodo on plans for rebuilding Hobbiton, but being a gardener himself, Sam knew his first priority lay with harvest. If there was no harvest, all the plans in the world wouldn't put food on the table over the coming winter.  
  
Farmer Cotton's acreage was mostly planted with vegetables. Pumpkins, squashes, dried beans and potatoes were the main crops being brought in today. The work wagon and baskets were constantly filled, emptied onto the farmstead's outdoor work tables for cleaning and sorting, and then sent back out to the fields again. The lads stayed busy with the heavy labor and the lasses remained close to the homestead working on the cleaning, sorting and storage. It was hard labor for all, but joyful. Often someone would break into song while pulling up potatoes or putting beans into harvest sacks. The Cottons had good voices, and once one of them started a song, the rest would join in harmony. Sam fit right in with the group, singing and occasionally telling bad jokes and silly little poems. It made work fun, and goodness knows they needed a break from all the frustration and sadness recently experienced. They were also grateful to be working so hard. Whilst the harvest was not bounteous, it would be adequate for the year.  
  
Frodo was not feeling very well this morning, and Sam sensed it. The Ringbearer had faint circles under his eyes and was slow in all his movements. Frodo didn't complain, but Sam could tell he was in pain and had not slept much. With a sudden shock, Sam noticed Frodo's thick raven hair had strands of grey intermixed. As Frodo came into the kitchen for breakfast, he volunteered to help work the harvest in any way he could. But Sam would have none of that.  
  
"Mister Frodo, sir," Sam said, "You're in no condition to be running about in the fields and getting all hot and dirty. Besides, you've no experience in farming. Honestly, sir, you'd just be in the way and might even get hurt out there. I'll not allow you to work harvest today. Please, Mister Frodo, why don't you stay here and rest a bit? That way I won't worry none about you."  
  
"Sam," Frodo smiled, "You worry over me like a mother hen. I'll be all right after I get a spot of tea in me. But you're right about me not knowing anything about farming. I bow to your vast expertise in this matter and will stay away from the harvest today. Does that satisfy you?"  
  
"No," Sam frowned, "it does not. You didn't say nothing about resting up. I know you better than you think. Now promise me you'll rest today."  
  
"I'll take it easy today Sam, I promise," Frodo demurred. He knew anything less would cause Sam to stay behind as well just to make sure Frodo didn't exert himself too much. Sam could be quite zealous in protecting his master during Frodo's increasingly common bad days. Frodo had problems sleeping during the night and awoke with a dull ache in all his muscles. It was as if he had been fighting for hours. Frodo drank another cup of tea, then carefully stood up and stretched out his knotted muscles. The pain subsided to a dull annoyance which he could ignore for the rest of the day.  
  
After Sam and the Cottons had gone out to the fields, Frodo gathered up the plans and maps he, Sam and Rosie had worked on the previous day. There still wasn't any information about the housing or food situation. A lot of the Hobbiton, Bywater and Bag Shot Row holes and homes had been destroyed or damaged by Sharkey's Men. Frodo wanted to get a better idea of what the Hobbiton families needed before he drafted a proposal for rebuilding the district.  
  
"I promised Sam I wouldn't participate in the harvest," Frodo said to himself. "And I promised to rest. Well, I've had my rest. Now I think I'll take a look around Hobbiton and Bywater and interview some families. That's the only way I know of getting the information I need."  
  
Rosie and her mother were outside at the washing and sorting tables. They were well-engrossed in what they knew would be an all-day chore. The two hobbitess were busy preparing buckets of water, scrub brushes, baskets of clean sand, drying racks, bundles of twine and straw mats for use in cleaning and storage. Frodo knew the two would not miss his presence until far into the afternoon. He put together a light lunch, loaded up his backpack with maps and writing accessories, grabbed his coat and walking stick, and snuck out the front door.  
  
Walking felt good. It helped relax his tight muscles and soon his headache was gone. Stopping in each house along the way, Frodo interview various heads of families to assess their needs. He was careful to write down what services and businesses were needed, as well as housing requirements. His plan was evolving into a blueprint for the entire Hobbiton area, including rebuilding the Green Dragon Inn, the business area, Bag Row and a new Row for new housing construction. The most distressing thing though was the extensive damage to the trees in Hobbiton and along the Water.  
  
The afternoon was wearing on as Frodo headed back to the Cotton's farm. He could see all the farmers busy in their fields with the harvest and hay-making. It had been a perfect day for harvest; dry and fair with a gentle cool breeze blowing in from the West. As the setting sun cast her rays across the sky to tickle the few remaining clouds, the Cottons brothers and Sam were taking turns bathing in a large tub set up near the sorting tables. They were splashing each other and laughing at rude jokes. Frodo slipped into the farmhouse and went into his room. He hoped Sam had not noticed his absence all day.  
  
Dinner was called. Everyone sat down at the large kitchen table and shared talk of the harvest with Frodo. It seemed like he wasn't even missed! But every now and again Sam would glance at him with a slight disapproving frown. "Ah well," Frodo thought, "that's not too high a price to pay for a productive day's work."  
  
After the dinner dishes were cleaned and put away, the Cotton family retired to bed. It had been a long day of heavy work and tomorrow would be the same. They were farmers and knew the benefits of a good night's sleep. Frodo spread out his maps and papers across the now-empty kitchen table. Sam walked in, pipe in hand, and took a look at the notes.  
  
"Didn't stay put and rest, did ya?" Sam quietly admonished.  
  
"I rested by taking a walk," Frodo countered. "Did me some good too. And I got to interview a lot of families along the way and do some surveying of the Hobbiton area. Sam, take a look at what I found out today. I'm afraid I've got more disturbing news."  
  
Frodo's survey of the Hobbiton area revealed the following:  
  
There was not enough food for the Hobbiton township population to survive winter, unless there was food hidden away in the outlying farms and pastures around Hobbiton.  
  
Sharkey's men killed Harry Taller, the Hobbiton physician. Hobbiton had no physician. The only medical person in Hobbiton was Mistress Marigold Hornblower, the midwife. Tandy Bolger the Apothecary could also take care of some minor medical emergencies.  
  
Communications within the Shire had become random at best, due to hobbits fearing roving bands of Sharkey's men, plus the fact that Sharkey had instituted a curfew.  
  
Many people had lost their homes and possessions. There was enough existing housing for the current emergency, but new homes and replacements needed to be constructed.  
  
Most of the Hobbiton animals were slaughtered. However, outlying farms were mostly unaffected by Sharkey's destruction.  
  
The trees were destroyed. Someone was going to have to take a detailed look at what had been destroyed in the entire Shire, and come up with a plan for re-forestation. If it wasn't done soon, the winter and spring storms would cause more damage through uncontrolled flooding.  
  
"Well, it's not all bad news, is it Mister Frodo?" Sam sighed as he sat down heavily beside Frodo. "Merry and Pippin are taking care of the ruffian problem. We can set up the postal service again soon as Merry and Pip send word that the roads are secure. And I think we're going to have enough food to last the winter. If all the other farms do as well as Master Cotton's farm, we'll have enough to get by if we do a bit of rationing. But there must be more hidden away in barns and such in the countryside. All we have to do is locate it. As for building, why we can start on that as soon as the harvest is in. Fatty, I mean, Fredigar can work on that. I'm sure folk will be willing to pitch in and help those what need helping the most.  
  
As for the trees…ah, that's a sad blow. Why did that old stinker have to cut down the trees for?"  
  
"Saruman probably wanted to get back at the Ents, don't you think?" Frodo said. "They were the ones who defeated him at Orthanc. He probably thought he was getting retribution on them by killing every tree he could find. Ah, Sam, revenge is a terrible waste. Nothing is accomplished by it. And it takes so long to overcome its evil."  
  
"Aye," Sam replied. "It will take a very long time to re-establish those trees. Are all the beautiful chestnuts along the walk down Bywater way gone too?"  
  
"All cut down and left to rot lying in the Water," Frodo said quietly, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder. He knew this would break Sam's heart, but there was no easy way to tell him. "Sam, I'm afraid every tree in Hobbiton was cut down. I hope it's not true for the entire Shire, but we won't know until a full survey is made."  
  
A tear escaped and rolled down Sam's face. The pipe was forgotten in his hand. Sam sighed from deep down in his soul as he gazed at the table.  
  
"I'll do it. I'll go see what needs gettin done."  
  
"Take someone with you, Sam" Frodo pleaded. "Take Nibs or Carl. I cannot go with you on this. I am not the right person for this task. But this is too large a task for you to do on your own. Take plenty of time and think long and hard about things. Your heart will guide your hands. You'll have to visit the entire Shire. It may take awhile, but knowing you, eventually the Shire will bloom again."  
  
Sam sighed and wiped the tears from his eyes. "What about the doc?"  
  
"That is the one thing which worries me the most, Sam," Frodo said. "A lot of our people were ill-treated by Sharkey's Men this past year. They've been on poor rations for quite a few months now. I fear we may see some bad illnesses this winter. Mistress Hornblower and Tandy can't take care of infirmities like that. We need to get a proper physician to move to Hobbiton, and we need to get one soon."  
  
"Ay, that we do. Where do we go for one?" Sam innocently asked.  
  
It was Frodo's turn to sigh. "I don't know. I'll have to find one somewhere though. But not tonight. I know you're tired with all the hard work you and the Cottons did today. It's to bed for us. We'll work on this some more in the morning."  
  
November 8th  
  
The next morning brought rain, so Sam was excused from the harvest. He, Rosie and Frodo trudged over to Bag End. Frodo located some detailed maps of the Shire compiled by Bilbo that were in one of the back rooms. Sam asked for a copy of the map. He was going to use it on his walking tour of the Shire. He was planning to asses the physical damage done to crops, trees, wind breaks, hedgerows, gardens, pastures, and farms. Rosie copied the map out for him while he and Frodo inventoried work necessary to restore Bag End to at least livable condition.  
  
That night Sam told Farmer Cotton of his plans to replant the Shire's trees. Frodo sat quietly smoking a pipe in a corner chair, letting Sam do all the talking. The farmer gallantly offered to accompany Sam on his journey, but Sam could see he really wanted to stay and complete his harvest. Instead, Sam asked if Nibs could be spared farm work to accompany him on the tour. The young hobbit was called into the study and told of the situation. Nibs could hardly contain his joy at being asked to take on such an important job. He would get to go on an adventure with the great Samwise Gamgee! Frodo said he would ask Fredigar Bolger to take over Sam's job of overseeing the removal of Sharkey's machinery. Thus it was decided that Sam and Nibs would start off on a 2-week agricultural needs tour the very next day.  
  
Frodo continued to clean out Bag End by himself when time allowed and when he could bring himself to face such dreadful carnage. Damage to Bag Shot Row included cutting down of the great tree on top of the hill. This had caused insects to get into the wood and undermine the root structure inside all the hobbit holes on Bag Row. Sam had told Frodo that the old root system would have to be dug out by hand, and new supports put in their place. All interior rooms needed their floors replaced. There was filth and garbage throughout the residence. Most rooms were uninhabitable, but the front study and kitchen were usable.  
  
November 9th  
  
Fredigar was up to the task. There was a tremendous amount of work to be done, but plenty of willing hobbit hands to do it. They started by having all Sharkey's machinery removed from the Mill. Old grinding equipment was located and cleaned. The ruins of Hobbiton's business buildings were burned according to Sam's original directions, and the ground made level. Foundations for the new Hobbiton buildings were laid using bricks collected from Sharkey's buildings. Digging of the New Row and new hobbit holes was also begun while Sam and Nibs were off on their agricultural tour. Bag Shot Row hobbit holes were reopened for work, but all were found to be contaminated with tailings from Sharkey's machineries. Fredigar decided to level the old holes, with the exception of Bag End, and relocate the hobbit holes to the South side of the Hill. But before laying in of the new road could commence, the Water had to be dredged.  
  
Frodo, Fredigar, Merry, Pippin, Rosie and Farmer Maggot formed teams to inventory the foodstuffs in the Shire. Fredigar and Merry were assigned the Brandywine and Scary areas. Pippin and Rosie took Hobbiton, Tuckborough and West to Micheldelving. Farmer Maggot took care of surveying the outlying farms and south to Longbottom. Frodo coordinated all the reports on food stores from his office at Bag End. He also advised Fredigar on activities for rebuilding the Hobbiton and outlying areas. The groups located hidden catches of food, goods, and beer which had been hidden away by the thrifty hobbit folk in tunnels, barns and out buildings. After reviewing the list of goods, and talking to the local farmers about their harvest, Frodo announced that with careful management, there was enough to last through the winter and spring. As winter approached, the Shire buckled down to hard, but imminently satisfying work. 


	5. The Plan

Chapter Rating: G  
  
1.1 Chapter 5: The Plan  
  
November 22nd  
  
Sam and Nibs returned from their Shire-wide agricultural survey. They arrived at the Cotton farmhouse around noon. Sam didn't even wait to take a bath or changed his clothes before calling a meeting. Nick was sent to Bag End and Hobbiton to fetch Frodo, Rosie and Farmer Maggot. When they arrived, Sam, Nibs and Farmer Cotton joined them to discuss agricultural issues.  
  
Agricultural and forestry damage to the Shire was immense. Nibs discovered that Sharkey's men were instructed to cut down or burn down all the trees in the Shire. Luckily, the big folk did not have time to complete their task. Many trees in the outlying areas were spared. But almost every tree in and around Hobbiton had been destroyed. The Water was polluted, was being dredged and salvaged. Most farms were left alone, but all the personal and communal gardens in Hobbiton and Bywater were destroyed. All Hobbiton farm and pasture animals had also been slaughtered.  
  
Upon hearing the terrible news about the Hobbiton area, the good hobbits of the North Farthing volunteered to move and transplant numerous trees from their orchards and forests in order to re-forest Hobbiton. Farms in the West and South Farthings volunteered to donate up to half of their seed stock to the Hobbiton residents in order to re-establish community and private gardens. And various farms around the Shire pledged to donate animals for the pastures and farms come spring. Sam and Nibs had brought back a cartload of seed stock from the good folk in the Shire. Included were many herb seeds and some cuttings. The two had also located numerous stores of food, beer and supplies the Shirefolk had hidden away in barns, sheds and holes across the countryside.  
  
On their way back to the Cotton farm, Sam and Nibs had taken selected cuttings over to Tandy Bofin's place for him to restart the medicinal apothecary garden. The rest of the seed stock was retained in one of the Cotton's barns for winter storage.  
  
Frodo's ears perked up when Sam mentioned the medical herb garden. He had forgotten about Tandy Bofin's place. Perhaps Tandy knew of a physician willing to come to Hobbiton. Frodo made a mental note to drop in on the apothecary and have a discussion with Tandy as soon as possible.  
  
Sam, Farmer Cotton and Farmer Maggot spent the rest of the day designing a plan for the re-forestation and gardening of Hobbiton. Since he was not needed, Frodo decided to act on his idea of interviewing Tandy Bofin. Grabbing his coat and cloak, he headed out into the late afternoon sun.  
  
Frodo had a little trouble locating Tandy's place when he reached Hobbiton. The destruction of familiar hobbit holes and business landmarks, and the intrusion of Man-made shacks confused his since of direction momentarily. Eventually he found the converted shed Tandy was using as the make-shift Apothecary and as his own living quarters. Knocking on the door, Frodo entered the humble wooden and thatch building.  
  
Tandy was there, sorting out the plant cuttings Sam had left him. "Frodo Baggins!" Tandy exclaimed, "Welcome. Welcome! Shut the door, will ya? It's blasted cold and I don't want these shoots to take any damage."  
  
"Mister Bofin," Frodo said, "Good to see you too. It's been too long." Frodo sat down on an overturned barrel – the only available place to sit in the two-room shed. The rest of the tiny building was full of bottles and tins and boxes of various strange-smelling items.  
  
"What brings you over, Frodo?" Tandy asked as he wiped the dirt from his hands. Tandy was a few years older than Frodo, and had known him since Frodo had moved in with Bilbo many years ago. Tandy had no problems addressing the younger Baggins in a familiar fashion.  
  
"I'm in a bit of a pickle and thought you might be able to help out," Frodo said. "I'm worried about Hobbiton's lack of a physician. I know your Apothecary used to be right next door to Doctor Taller's office. What's the current situation as far as meeting the medical need of the area?"  
  
"Well, you know them stinking Sharkey's Men went and killed old Doc Taller, don't you?" Tandy asked. "The Doc didn't take too kindly to the bullies hitting and beating folk. One day the Doc up and thrashed a squinty-eyed bloke who had backhanded this little hobbit lass for getting in his way. The ruffian pulled out a knife and stabbed old Doc and left him to bleed to death, curse 'em." Tandy spat into the fire.  
  
"So we're now left with no physician. Doc didn't have an apprentice neither. Mistress Marigold Hornblower is still practicing her midwifery. She's good, but she don't have the training of a real physician like the Doc. I can prescribe tonics and lotions, and can even set a broken bone if put to it, but I don't have the training neither."  
  
"Can you think of a doctor somewhere in the Shire who might be willing to relocate to Hobbiton?" Frodo asked.  
  
Tandy sat on the dirt floor mentally reviewing all the Physicians he knew either in person or by reputation. "Well, Doctor Longcleeve is the physician up near Scary. But I don't think he would be willing to move. He's got a wife and family and they're all settled in up there. Plus he's the only one for the whole North Farthing. Tuckborough has a physician and a midwife. Can't recall their names though. I think they're a hobbit and wife team. You might want to ask the Thain about them. Out in the West Farthing…let me see… I think there's a physician at Little Delving. Micheldelving has two physicians and two midwives. That's were most folk go for their training. They've got a big medical garden there too. Then there's my cousin, Iris Proudfoot. She's sharing a practice with Mistress Weaver, the Physician and Midwife of the South Farthing out at Southway. You might get her to move. She's not married. Bree's got a hobbit physician, but you'll never get old Master Lilyman to move from Bree. Bree folk don't move to the Shire. And there's a Brandybuck physician at Brandy Hall, but I don't think he'll move either. Guess your best bet is to contact the school at Micheldelving or my cousin."  
  
"Thanks, Tandy," Frodo said as he stood up to take his leave. "You've been a wealth of information."  
  
"Frodo?" Tandy asked as he opened the door. "Can we rebuild Hobbiton the way it was before all this trouble? I would dearly love to have my Apothecary back. I saved as much of it as I could carry off and hide before the ruffians got to it. It would do me a world of good to put it all back together the way me and me Dad had it laid out."  
  
"I'll see what we can do," Frodo said as he started his walk out of town.  
  
It was twilight as Frodo made his way back to the Cotton's farm. "So much work to do," he thought. "How could Saruman have done so much damage in so little time? Isn't that the way of it though? It only takes a minute to undo a lifetime's work. Considering the damage done to the trees and the very earth itself, we'll be lucky if it only takes a generation to get things back to normal." Frodo had another headache starting.  
  
Sam had been busy setting into place a plan for re-foresting the Shire. He had it laid out on the kitchen table. As Frodo sat down beside Sam to review the plan, Rose brought the three of them some steaming hot tea. Frodo sniffed his suspiciously. "Rose, what's in this tea?"  
  
"Oh, Mister Frodo, I noticed you rubbing your temples, so I thought you could use a headache tea," Rosie blushed as she stood up and took his cup. "Forgive me if I made a mistake. I'll get you regular mint tea if you like."  
  
1.2 "No, no," Frodo said, "You guessed rightly. Thank you. Let's take a look at this plan."  
  
Frodo decided to incorporate Sam's agricultural plans into his own for the rebuilding of Hobbiton. Rosie could read and write, and had a fair hand for copying documents. She was also adept at map-making and watercolor. So Rosie Cotton was given the task of copying out Sam's plan, and creating maps and illustrations showing the details.  
  
The next morning it was decided that copies of the agricultural plans were to be sent to Mayor Whitfoot for his approval, as hobbits are creatures of protocol and habit. Even though Frodo was Deputy Mayor, tradition dictated that any formal plans affecting public road works and such required the signature of the Mayor in triplicate and in red ink. And even though Frodo had the power to sign for the Mayor, he was extremely reluctant to use this power whilst Will Whitfoot was physically able to resume some of the Mayor's duties.  
  
Frodo hiked over to Mayor Whitfoot's home with the agricultural plans, maps and illustrations. By the time he arrived he was shivering and his missing ring finger ached with phantom pain. Mrs. Whitfoot greeted him at the door.  
  
"Young Mister Baggins," she said, "So good to see you. Do come in, dear. Let me take your cloak and walking stick. Let's get you warmed up by the fire, shall we? May I get you some tea or something stronger?"  
  
"Thank you Mrs. Whitfoot. Tea would be fine," Frodo said as she led him into a cozy room. "I've come on some official business with the Mayor. Is he able to take visitors? I promise you this won't take too long."  
  
"Oh, he's doing much better now that he's back at home and able to get some proper rest and victuals," she said. "Please come into the study. Make yourself comfortable. I'll go get Mister Whitfoot and a spot of tea for the both of you while you do your official business."  
  
The Mayor's study was a small room just to the right of the front door. Frodo settled down into a small leather chair opposite a writing desk near to the fireplace. He assumed this was the 'official' Mayoral desk, since it contained a multitude of different paper stocks, inkwells filled with various colors of ink, ribbons in several hues and sealing wax. After a moment, the Mayor shuffled in, wearing a well-worn black smoking jacket and leaning heavily on a beautiful cane carved to resemble a pony.  
  
Frodo quickly stood up and helped the Mayor settle into the comfortable chair behind the desk. The chair and its occupant were evidently well- acquainted with each other, as both creaked and sighed as the Mayor sat down. Will Whitfoot was an elderly hobbit who had spent most of his life attending the official and unofficial politics of the Shire. He loved his position as Mayor, and the folk of the Shire loved the seriousness and pomposity he brought to that position, which was only befitting someone as important as the Mayor. But now he was thin and in ill-health following his detention in the Lockholes during the past year of troubles in the Shire. He was doing his best to regain his weight, as was expected for someone of importance like the Mayor.  
  
"Well, my dear young Master Baggins," the Mayor said, "Welcome. Please pardon me if I haven't dressed properly for this occasion. It's good to have a visitor, even if he's only on official business as my wife tells me." He smiled kindly at Frodo. The Mayor liked Frodo and the entire Baggins family. He and Bilbo had been friends for years.  
  
"It's so wonderful to see you up and about, sir," said Frodo. "It looks like your wife's ministrations have you on the mend. I apologize for disturbing your convalescence, but I have a little bit of business which requires your consideration."  
  
Mrs. Whitfoot quietly came into the study, bringing a tray of tea and crumpets. Frodo and the Mayor thanked her and continued on.  
  
"We've completed a survey of the agricultural needs of the Hobbiton, Bywater and Bag End areas damaged during the past year. Samwise Gamgee, Master Tom Cotton, his daughter Rose and Farmer Maggot have come up with a plan for the re-forestation of the area. It involves some large-scale transplanting of trees donated from the good hobbits in the North Farthing. This plan also incorporates rebuilding the damaged gardens, hedgerows, and parks. I've used this agricultural plan as a blueprint for working out a large-scale building and road works master plan. But we need to have you look over the agricultural plan and give your approval before we start any actual work. As you will see, I've also included a new public garden as a memorial to the hobbits slain during the Battle of Bywater."  
  
Frodo came over to the desk and laid out Rosie's detailed map of the Hobbiton area. Areas marked for work are highlighted in yellow and green. Frodo also gave the Mayor a copy of the agricultural plan, then retook his seat. The agricultural plan had been carefully copied onto fine parchment paper and bound with an official-looking blue ribbon. The Mayor took the plan and studied it for several minutes. He asked Frodo a few questions, which Frodo answered to his satisfaction. After a few minutes spent studying the map, the Mayor set down the papers and lighted a candle on the desk.  
  
"My boy," he said, "this is outstanding work! You've even had it bound with the proper color ribbon. You will make a fine politician someday if you keep this up! Your uncle Bilbo and I once discussed the possibility of you apprenticing me and taking over the Mayorship someday."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Frodo smiled. He knew the Mayor was pleased to be included in the decision-making processes again. But Frodo had no intention of going into politics, either now or in the future.  
  
"I approve this plan," the Mayor said. "Now let's see…where is that seal?" He fumbled around in the desk, finally producing a rather large, impressive looking carved seal and a stick of red wax.  
  
"Mister Baggins," the Mayor asked, "Would you please ask my wife to come in and be a witness?"  
  
Frodo went into the kitchen where Mrs. Whitfoot was putting away some dishes, and asked her to join them. She smiled, (she was used to doing this) and escorted Frodo back to the study.  
  
The Mayor asked Frodo to sign the front of the document, first in blue ink and then again in red. Then he himself signed the document in black ink and dated it. His wife signed in blue ink as witness under their signatures. Lastly, the seal was applied in red wax under the signatures.  
  
"Thank you my dear," the Mayor said. Mrs. Whitfoot took the tea tray with her on her way out of the room. "There you go Mister Baggins. Now the work can commence. Any other plans you have may be sent to me via messenger if you need me to look at them and give comments. But I mostly leave the planning and organizing and such in your capable hands. If you need me for more official business, as long as it doesn't involve my going outside the house for awhile, please feel free to drop by. I'm not sure my wife would want me out and about this winter."  
  
Frodo stood up and bowed to the elder hobbit. Taking the map and freshly- sealed plan, he said his goodbyes, got his cloak, and headed back to Bag End.  
  
"That went well," he thought, tramping up the hill toward Bag Shot Row. "The old gentlehobbit needs professional care though. Many of the townsfolk are ill right now, and I fear this winter may bring more sickness. We need a proper physician. That's my next task. I have to find a physician who would be willing to relocate to Hobbiton." As if in sympathy, his ring finger started throbbing.  
  
"And I'm not sure I can hide my own illnesses from Sam without professional help. He has enough on his mind without worrying about me as well. I don't want to burden him any more with my problems. He took care of me all through our journey to Mordor and back. I would have never made it without him, bless him. But enough is enough. He will never live his own life if he thinks he has to constantly take care of me. I need a proper hobbit physician to be at hand for the next time the poison strikes. Maybe I should travel to Rivendale and ask Lord Elrond if the Elves could do something else to ease this pain. But no, that is so selfish. That would only help me. That will not solve the problem of Hobbiton being without a physician."  
  
He looked up and realized he was already at Bag End. The White Hand of Saruman painted on Bag End's once-hospitable front door mocked him.  
  
"If I don't repaint that door soon I'm going to take a torch to it," Frodo thought with a sudden violent anger which surprised him. Passing his hand over his eyes, he wearily walked into his study. "No rest today. And with the nightmares, probably no rest tonight. I'm so tired of all this." 


	6. The Letter

Chapter Rating: G  
  
1.1 Chapter 6: The Letter  
  
December 1st S.R. 1419  
  
Captains Meriodoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took rode into Hobbiton with a small band of their Shire-militia in close military formation. The town folk lined the streets, cheering the handsome young Captains in their finery and the town folk's own brave lads marching at their side. The armed force wore Shirriff's hats with gay yellow and green feathers waving in the crisp December breeze. Merry blew on his silver horn and Pippin waved at all the pretty young lasses who were flicking colorful handkerchiefs and ribbons at him. In a great show of military pomp, Merry formally dismissed their escorts at the Hobbiton market square. As the disbanded Shirriffs wandered back to their own homes and holes, the two friends rode their dappled ponies up to Bag End.  
  
Frodo was waiting for them in the study. After each was settled into a comfortable chair with a mug of beer, Merry and Pippin reported on their actions concerning the rousting of Sharkey's Men. All the Men surviving the Battle of Bywater had been rounded up and either killed in subsequent battles, or escorted to the borders. The Shire was now secure. Frodo toasted the gallant pair on their success.  
  
"Can you two stay for awhile?" Frodo asked. He was hoping Merry and Pippin would remain for lunch, as Frodo was a bit lonely for company. Whenever Sam was in town, he concentrated his time on restoring #3 Bag Shot Row for his Gaffer and was seldom at Bag End. Right now Sam was away on one of his frequent trips to the North Farthing concerning selection of saplings for replanting Hobbiton. Rose was back at her family's farm, helping can and dry produce.  
  
Frodo hid his disappointment when Merry said he and Pippin had to be making their way back to Crickethollow that very day. They wanted to go ahead and start the journey, as the sky promised cold rain that night. They hoped to make it all the way to Crickethollow before the rains, now that they were unencumbered by the foot soldiers. The Captains had acquired two of the largest ponies in the Shire and could make excellent speed when pressed.  
  
As they rode away down Bag Shot Road, Frodo pulled the door closed. "One task completed." He thought. "Let's see what other loose ends need tightening."  
  
He took out the list of concerns he and Sam had made back in November. "Ah, yes…Now that the roads and byways have been secured, the postal service can be restarted. And we desperately need a physician."  
  
The easy task was drafting a letter authorizing reestablishment of the post. He made a copy for Mayor Whitfoot's approval and tucked it inside his backpack. The next letter was much more difficult to write.  
  
"This should be easy," he thought. "Guess my own fears of falling ill again make me more sensitive to this need than to the others. Ah well, just get it done."  
  
The letter was an urgent plea asking for a physician to voluntarily relocate immediately to Hobbiton. He tried wording it as a formal request from the Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton, but the wording was too stuffy and formal. He destroyed that draft and began again. The next attempt was more of a plea for help, but it sounded too personal. That one also went into the fire. Finally he was satisfied with the third draft, which combined the personal letter style with the wording from the Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton. Frodo made a copy of this and placed them alongside the other document in his backpack. A quick trip to the Mayor's house, and the two letters were approved, copied by Mrs. Whitfoot and sent out to every hamlet and village in the Shire. He had to be patient now.  
  
Meanwhile, Fredigar had been busy directing the construction of new Bag Shot Row hobbit holes. That week Bag Shot Row #1 and #2 were ready for reoccupation. The Widow Rumble moved back into #2. The Wode family (all nine of them) moved back in to #1.  
  
December 5th  
  
The day was cold and overcast with dark rain clouds. Around 10:00am Sam arrived at the Cotton farm. He was driving a large wagon laden down with saplings from the North Farthing. The Cottons bundled up and helped with the unloading. Soon chestnut, hazel wood, oak, pine, cherry, apple, linden, walnut, mulberry, and maple saplings were lined up in tidy rows along the outside of the barn. Each was tagged and bundled, ready for planting.  
  
Frodo stayed inside, watching the activity while sitting next to the stove in the kitchen. His shoulder ached and he couldn't seem to get warm, but he was able to hide his discomfort from the Cottons. He tossed another log into the stove and set a kettle on to boil for tea. Right before everyone came inside, Frodo set the tea to steep and vanished back into his room. He knew Sam would see right through his obstinate show of normalcy and a scene would be had there in the kitchen. The last thing Frodo wanted at the moment was a public shouting match with Sam over his illness.  
  
As soon as the saplings were safely put away, the farmers poured into the warm kitchen. Scarves, mittens and coats were flung on the mudroom pegs and everyone gathered around the red-hot stove to warm up. They discovered the pot of warm tea under the quilted cozy.  
  
"Where's Frodo?" Sam asked.  
  
"Evidently he was here a short while ago," said Mistress Cotton. "Must have gone back to his room or else he's off to Bag End." Sam grabbed a mug of tea and went down to Frodo's room.  
  
"Hello there Frodo," Sam said, knocking on the door. "Mind if I come in?"  
  
"Come on in Sam," came the reply from inside the room. As Sam walked into the room he immediately noticed the faint circles under Frodo's eyes and the slight pinched look on his pale face. He also noticed Frodo was fully clothed inside the rather over-warm room. Something was not right with his master, and he was not about to let Frodo off without an explanation.  
  
"Right," Sam said, placing his mug on the nightstand and coming over to place his callused hands on Frodo's slim shoulders. "It's back to bed for you." Frodo couldn't suppress wincing as Sam patted him on the shoulder.  
  
"Sam, leave me alone, will you?" Frodo was annoyed as he slid out from under Sam's reach. "You are not my mother and you are not Bilbo."  
  
"That's a nice 'welcome home' if ever I heard one," Sam countered. "I can read your face plain as day. You're sick and I want you to stay in bed."  
  
"Welcome home. There. Satisfied?" Frodo was in a foul mood now. "I don't need to be in bed and I don't need to be bossed around."  
  
"Look here, Mister Frodo Baggins, it's clear to me you're in pain," Sam said. "Stay put and rest until you're better, and that's an order!"  
  
"I will NEVER be better," Frodo almost screamed. "The pain is constant. I just have to live with it. Don't mother me, Sam. I am not asking for your pity. If I stayed in every time I was in pain I would never get out of bed. Just leave me alone, Sam. There is nothing you or Elrond or Gandalf or anyone else can do, can't you get that through your thick head?"  
  
He saw this really hurt Sam's feelings, but Frodo was tired of trying to simultaneously hide his pain and yet seek relief. He deeply regretted snapping at his closest friend but was determined to not become an invalid. He grabbed his coat and started pulling it on. "I am going over to Bag End today. Don't try to stop me either."  
  
Sam's face flushed red with anger. "You are NOT going to Bag End! You are going right to bed this instant!" He tried to take the coat away and force Frodo into bed. Frodo pushed him away with a surprisingly violent shove. Sam grabbed him and accidentally hit his left shoulder.  
  
Pain! It felt like glass being twisted in his shoulder. Frodo doubled over in agony, gasping. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. Tears more of misery and frustration than pain. Sam immediately let him go, aghast that he had actually hurt Frodo.  
  
"Oh no! Frodo! Please forgive me! I didn't know it was that bad. Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive your Sam. Please sit down," Sam blubbered. Frodo sank his head onto Sam's shoulder, whimpering. They both collapsed into a heap on the floor. Frodo cradled his hurt left arm, softly moaning. Sam circled his arms gently around Frodo's shoulders, rubbing his back and shushing him like a frightened child. Sam stroked Frodo's increasingly greying curls. Now that the Ring was destroyed Frodo was rapidly aging. It was a double blow to Sam to see his friend and master so consumed by this relentless wearing away. He had always thought of Frodo as ageless and fearless – the very embodiment of self-sacrifice and virtue. Now the naked truth was revealed. Frodo would never be well, nor would he live very long.  
  
Eventually Frodo gritted his teeth and straightened up, tears streaking his face. "Please, Sam," Frodo whispered, "let me try to deal with this in my own way."  
  
Sam was crying, head in his sturdy hands, ashamed of his actions. "I can't abide seeing you like this. It tears me in two."  
  
"I know, and my everlasting sorrow is to be the cause of your worry," Frodo said as he caressed Sam's plain round gentle hobbit face. "Sam, I'll be all right. I can manage. Here. Just let me catch my breath." Frodo sat on the floor struggling to control his breathing. Sam used his sleeve to dry the tears streaming down his face, then wiped Frodo's tear-stained cheeks.  
  
There was a timid knock on the bedroom door. Frodo looked up, ashamed at his pitiful condition. "Please, Sam, don't let anyone see me like this."  
  
Sam got up and went to the door. Without opening it he asked what they wanted. It was Rose. "Are you two all right?"  
  
Sam cleared his tight throat and answered through the door, "Yes, just give us a few minutes Rosie, love." As Sam turned around, Frodo had managed to climb into a chair. He was pale, but in control of himself again.  
  
Sam knelt at his feet. "Frodo, we've got to get you a doctor."  
  
"What do you think a hobbit doctor can do that Lord Elrond and Gandalf could not?"  
  
"I don't know. But it'll be better than you just suffering day after day."  
  
Frodo sighed, "Sam, you are the best friend a hobbit ever had. I wish it was not this way, but it is. Please accept the fact that I will have good days and I will have bad days. Today is not so bad, really. I can manage, if you will help me. I cannot abide other folk's pity."  
  
"I made it through Mordor and back again with you," Sam said, helping Frodo into his traveling cloak. He stopped and turned Frodo so that he could look his best friend in the world straight in the eyes.  
  
"I would have leapt into the very fires of Mount Doom for you, if you had asked. I'll never again try to stop you from doing what you've set your mind to. Just don't leave without me. Promise me that. You'll not be leaving your Sam will you?"  
  
Frodo couldn't look Sam in the eyes.  
  
"I cannot promise that, Sam. If it comes to it, I might have to leave," Frodo quietly said as he fastened an Elvish broach closing the cloak. "But not now. I will not ask that of you now, Sam. Right now I am going over to Bag End for the rest of the day. I promise to take it easy. Kiss Rosie for me and make up something so she will not worry." And with that, Frodo left.  
  
December 10th  
  
A postal massager arrived at Bag End with a very important-looking letter addressed to the Deputy Mayor. Frodo chatted with the messenger for a moment, trying to hide his excitement, then stepped back inside to read the missive. Iris Proudfoot of Southway, South Farthing had replied to Frodo's plea for a physician. She sent a letter to Master Frodo Baggins, Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton, stating that she would be willing to leave her employment with Mistress Weaver, the physician and midwife of the South Farthing, and relocate to Hobbiton to become their full-time physician. Miss Proudfoot stated that she was originally from Tuckborough and maintained a good relationship with her cousin, Tandy Bofin of Hobbiton. Tandy had arranged for her to share lodgings with him until the Apothecary and Physician's Office and associated living spaces were reconstructed in Hobbiton. She had heard of the troubles in Hobbiton from her cousin and understood the urgency of relocating immediately to the area. She was willing to bring extra medical supplies with her, and indicated that she would take care of organizing her own transportation to Hobbiton.  
  
Frodo could hardly believe his luck! A physician would be arriving within the week! Things were looking up. 


	7. Mistaken Identity

Chapter Rating: G  
  
1.1 Chapter 7: Mistaken Identity  
  
December 14th S.R. 1419  
  
A small pony-drawn wagon laden with furniture, books and boxes wound its way past the still waters of the small pool reflecting the buildings of Hobbiton. Iris Proudfoot sat on the passenger's side of the wagon, looking at the mixture of burned ruins and new buildings under constructions. She was an average-sized hobbit of around 40 years old, with green eyes and typical brown curly hair. As the wagon crossed over the Bywater Pool bridge and headed through Bywater, the driver slowed and hailed a local hobbit who was laying bricks at a construction site.  
  
"Hello friend," the driver called. "Hello yourself," the worker replied. "What can I do fer ye?"  
  
"Do you know where Mister Tandy Bofin lives? He's the Apothecary here."  
  
"Sure, sure. See that large clearing where all the foundation work is? That's where the Apothecary used to be. You'll find Mister Bofin's place round back of it. It's a shed what's been converted into his business till we get round to finishing the buildings there. Go on round to the right and the road will take you there."  
  
The driver thanked the hobbit, and did as he was bid. Soon a large shed with a hastily-constructed addition to its side appeared. The driver pulled up before the shanty and walked around to help Iris down from the wagon. She noted the little temporary sign on the plain wooden door: "Hobbiton Apothecary – Please Knock" So she did.  
  
Presently a middle-aged hobbit wearing a white shop apron came to the door.  
  
"Tandy! Good to see you again," Iris said.  
  
"Cousin Iris! Come in, come in," Tandy said as he stepped outside. "I've been expecting you today. Got your letter yesterday. Driver – come on in and warm yourself by the fire. Come in."  
  
The three crowded into the tiny shack. Tandy had added a fireplace between the original shack and the addition. A good amount of warmth was being generated by some well-tended coals on the grate. Iris sank into a chair by the fire. The driver pulled up a nearby barrel and sat on it.  
  
"Can I get you something?" Tandy bustled about. "I've some tea and cheese and bread about."  
  
"Thank ye kindly, Sir," replied the driver. "I'll have a spot of tea and maybe a bit o' cheese, if you don't mind. Then I'll be unloading the wagon. Got to be getting on back to the South Farthing as quick as can be. Me Misses don't like me being gone more than a couple o' days, you know. Jim Baindhole at yer service."  
  
"Tandy Bolger at yours and your family's," politely replied Tandy. He disappeared into the addition, and returned with a tray of cheese and sliced bread and a small tea service.  
  
After warming up and eating the light repast, the three went back outside to unload the wagon. Iris was moving in with her cousin on a temporary basis until the new Hobbiton Apothecary, Physician's Office and living quarters was built. Tandy had set aside the shack's addition for Iris to use as a Physician's room, but it also had to serve as her bedroom. The other half of the shed served as Tandy's bedroom and Apothecary.  
  
The next afternoon Iris called on the Deputy Mayor at his office in Bag End. As she walked up the freshly-graded dirt road the sounds of construction could be heard from round the back of the Hill. An occasional song or whistling drifted on the cool winter breeze. Work continued on Bag Shot Row #3, Bag End and the New Row diggings.  
  
Iris walked up the little pathway to Bag End's front door. It was freshly painted a brilliant forest green and had a new chain of tiny brass bells attached to its right post. She pulled the rocker, setting off a merry tinkle from the multiple bells. A young hobbitess answered the door. She was wiping her hands on a tea towel, fresh with flower all over the front of her apron.  
  
"Good day, 'Mam," said Rosie. "Can I help you?"  
  
"I'm looking for a Mister Frodo Baggins," Iris replied. "My name is Iris Proudfoot and I've come about the physician's job in Hobbiton."  
  
"Oh my!" Rosie exclaimed, bringing Iris into the hallway. "Do come in! Frodo! Frodo! It's the new physician. Please forgive me. I'll go get him right away."  
  
Iris was impressed with the size and quality of the hobbit hole. At one time it had been the most outstanding example of a smial in the entire region. It was evidently undergoing reconstruction right now, but she could see that it would one day return to its former glory. From out of a room off to her left a slightly thin hobbit approached. He appeared to be in his early 50's and was dressed impeccably in a rather formal chocolate brown coat and vest suit. His slightly greying raven hair circled his kindly face in a halo of large curls. But it was his eyes which caused Iris to look again. They were the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.  
  
"Frodo Baggins at your service," he said, offering his hand.  
  
"Iris Proudfoot at yours and your family's," she replied, shaking his hand. She couldn't help but notice he was missing the ring finger. Probably some accident, she thought.  
  
"May I take your coat?" Frodo said. "Please come into the study. We've been expecting you any day now. We're so grateful to have you come so quickly."  
  
He led her through a large living room and into a cozy study lined with books and featuring a roaring fire in the fireplace. As she sat down, the hobbitess returned from the kitchen, bearing a tray with a tea service and a plate of cookies.  
  
"Thank you Rosie," Frodo smiled as Rose set the tray down on a small table and then disappeared again. "She's a wonderful lass and a great cook. Well… as I said, it's a pleasure to meet you. When did you arrive?"  
  
"Yesterday," Iris replied. "I'm all settled in with my cousin, Tandy Bolger, down at his place in Hobbiton. Master Baggins, I want to thank you for agreeing to have me as the town's physician. I do hope this works out well for everyone. I've been a physician in the South Farthing for ten years now. But this is my first solo practice."  
  
"Oh, Miss Proudfoot, it is Hobbiton and Bywater which will benefit the most from your presence. I am so thankful you replied so quickly too. Now, tell me what you need and I will try to arrange for it to get done."  
  
"I've brought a good supply of dried herbs and medicines with me. However, I see it will probably not be enough to last through the winter and spring. Tandy tells me he needs to rebuild the medicinal garden. Am I correct in assuming you're already working on getting the plants from elsewhere in the Shire?"  
  
"Yes," Frodo said. "Samwise Gamgee has already located sources throughout the Shire who are willing to donate cuttings for our new medical garden. He and Nibs Cotton are away on an agricultural survey right now. When they return I'm certain you will want to speak to them about the apothecary garden. But if we need additional medical supplies I can arrange to purchase some from Bree or elsewhere. Has Master Bolger told you the situation with not having a proper Physician's Office in Hobbiton yet? I hasten to add that construction of your new Physician's Office and living quarters is well underway. If you need more space than what your cousin has, I'm sure I can find somewhere to relocate you. Just let me know how we can help."  
  
"Thank you for your kind offer, but Tandy's temporary house is adequate for a short-term solution," she replied. "I can work out of my medical bag through house calls for the time being. If I think of anything else I'll be sure to let you know."  
  
Frodo was taken with her character and courage at having made the journey from the Southway up to Hobbiton on her own. She also showed a great willingness to do what was necessary to make things right. "Looks like we found the right person for this job," he thought.  
  
It was a pleasant, if somewhat formal meeting. Frodo showed Iris his plans for the rebuilding of Hobbiton, pointing out the new business district and where her office would be. Iris was impressed with the evident thought which had gone into the detailed plans. "This might not be so bad," she thought.  
  
"Mister Baggins?" Iris was asking as Rosie came into the room to clear off the tea tray. "What's the situation concerning any known medical emergencies in Hobbiton? I mean, do you know of anyone who needs my immediate help with an illness or injury?"  
  
Rosie couldn't help but turn and stare at Frodo at that moment. She was hoping he would mention his own illnesses. Frodo gave her a warning glance, so Rosie continued her gathering of the tea items and then left the room. Iris had noticed the silent exchange, but decided to file it away in her memory until she knew more about this suddenly mysterious Mister Frodo Baggins.  
  
Frodo told Iris about Will Whitfoot and Fredigar Bolger's incarceration at the Lockholes. They both could use a visit from the physician, to see if there was anything Iris could do to speed up their recovery. Iris promised to look in on the Mayor immediately.  
  
"Miss Proudfoot," Frodo said as Iris stood up to leave, "would you care to share dinner with Rosie and me? We would be honored to have you as our guest."  
  
Rose came into the study as she overheard the invitation. "Yes, we would be quite honored if you would join us. I've a lovely steak and kidney pie just out of the oven."  
  
"Oh, no thank you," Iris said as she headed towards the hallway for her cloak. "I really couldn't impose on you and your wife."  
  
"My wife?" Frodo was perplexed. Rosie started sniggered behind her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I realize I haven't made a proper introduction. Miss Iris Proudfoot, please meet Miss Rose Cotton. Rose is a close friend who comes over to help me with Bag End occasionally. I am not married."  
  
"Oh!" Iris blushed a furious red. "I am so sorry! I…I just assumed…I mean…oh dear."  
  
They all burst into laughter. Frodo helped Iris with her cloak as Rosie headed back into the kitchen, chuckling and shaking her head.  
  
"May I escort you back into town?" Frodo asked, grabbing his own grey-green traveling cloak. "It has gotten rather late and the sun has set already. Bag Shot Row is torn up with construction and I would not want you to get lost or take a misstep along the way. After all, we cannot have our new physician becoming injured her first day in town."  
  
"Thank you again, Mister Baggins," Iris replied, still trying to regain her professional composure after such a social faux paux.  
  
"Please, call me Frodo," he said as they walked back to Hobbiton. 


	8. News from the Mayor

Chapter Rating: G  
  
Chapter 8: News from the Mayor  
  
December 15th  
  
"I hate going out on nasty days," Iris Proudfoot thought as she lowered her head slightly to keep the icy rain from stinging her face. She was on her way to look in on Will Whitfoot, Mayor of Hobbiton. She had made a house call yesterday after her meeting with Frodo. The Mayor's house was not far from hers, but the weather was incredibly bad, making her short journey extremely wretched. It was only early afternoon, but already it looked like dusk. Dark grey clouds laden with freezing rain pounded the dead grass and bare trees, as well as the lone hobbit on the road. Iris tried to keep her thick woolen cloak tightly clasped against the wild wind, but was hampered by her heavy medical bag. There were drawbacks to being the only physician in Hobbiton.  
  
By the time she knocked at the Mayor's doorstep, she was thoroughly wet and miserable. Mistress Whitfoot opened the round yellow door and quickly brought the shivering hobbitess inside the warm hallway.  
  
"Oh, you poor dear," clucked Amanda Whitfoot. "Let me take your cloak and get you warmed up." The senior hobbit-wife removed Iris's soaked traveling wrap and brought her into the study. Much to Iris's comfort, a well-tended fire was already roaring in the large fireplace. Mistress Whitfoot scurried off to another part of the house while Iris set down the medical bag and warmed her freezing hands. Mistress Whitfoot returned shortly with a fluffy towel and a steaming mug of tea. Iris gratefully accepted the tea first, then dried her dripping hair with the towel.  
  
"Amanda? Who is it?" a voice from somewhere deep in the house boomed.  
  
"It's the new doctor, Will," the hobbitess yelled back. "You remember. You've got a check-up today, dear." Turning to Iris, Mistress Whitfoot excused herself and said she would fetch Mister Whitfoot directly. Presently the Mayor shuffled into the study, only slightly leaning on his good wife's arm. Iris stood up and bowed slightly to the aged politician. It was, after all, the polite thing to do, even if the Mayor was not active in Shire politics at the time due to his illness. Frodo Baggins was currently the acting Deputy Mayor. But hobbits are a polite race and are ever respectful of their elders.  
  
The Mayor settled himself into a comfortable leather chair by the fire. Amanda Whitfoot lovingly draped a warm green shawl around his shoulders and then disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
"My dear Miss Proudfoot," said the Mayor. "Thank you for coming out on this dreadfully nasty day. I really did not expect you to make a house call in this type of weather. You could have waited until the rain stopped you know."  
  
"Oh, your honor," Iris said, "It was no problem. I'm used to traveling at odd times of the day and in all types of weather. Now, how are you doing?"  
  
"Oh, getting better and better. Slow and steady as they say. My Amanda spoils me. She's fattening me up like the proverbial Yule Day pig. She's a real jewel, you know?" The Mayor's fondness for his wife was quite evident.  
  
"That's wonderful to hear," Iris said. "Looks like you've managed to regain a bit of weight thanks to your wife's cooking. Walking better too, I see. But let me take a look at your hands and knees."  
  
The Mayor suffered from severe arthritis. It had affected his knuckles prior to his imprisonment in the Lockholes. But the disease had flared up quite badly during his incarceration. He needed a cane to get around, and had trouble getting up and down without help.  
  
"How are you doing with that tea I gave you yesterday?" Iris asked as she examined his swollen knuckles.  
  
"Not exactly the best-tasting tea I've ever had," he complained, "but it does help with the pain."  
  
"Good. Have you noticed any problems with your stomach after you've had the tea?"  
  
"No," he said, "No, can't say as I've had any problems with it at all, once you get past the first swallow."  
  
"You are really doing quite well," Iris said. "Let's continue with the tea. Take a full cup with first breakfast like you've been doing. But let's also try another cup with dinner. That might help you sleep better through the night. Here's some salve. Rub it on your joints. It will bring warmth to the joints and help sooth them. And I hope you're not exerting yourself too much with your Mayoral duties. I know Mister Baggins has been over here on official business, but I don't want him tiring you out."  
  
"Oh no, my dear," the Mayor protested, "Young Mister Baggins is not wearing me out. I'm grateful he's taken over all that bothersome planning during my recuperation. Frodo Baggins has always been such a polite and serious young hobbit. Why, I've known him ever since he was a tiny thing living out with his wild cousins in Buckland. Shame about his parents, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't know Mister Baggins all that well," she said as she put away her medical instruments and settled into the guest chair. Part of her bedside manor included listening to gossip in hopes of obtaining background histories on her patients. And Frodo Baggins was a particularly interesting case. "Weren't his parents killed in some sort of accident a long time ago?"  
  
"Oh yes," continued the Mayor. "Quite a tragedy. So young and full of life. Did you know that Frodo's father, Drogo Baggins, was originally from Hobbiton? He was the tailor here, and a good one too. We were very sorry when he moved away. He married a Brandybuck and moved in with them at that great hall they have over in Buckland. Frodo's parents were killed in a boating accident. Boating! Now what hobbit in his right mind would take his pregnant wife out boating? Ah well, that was a difficult funeral to do. Frodo couldn't have been more than ten years old at the time of the accident. Maybe even younger. Took it real hard too. Well, who wouldn't?"  
  
"Is that when he came to live with Mister Bilbo?" Iris asked.  
  
"No, no. That was much later," the Mayor said. "Those know-it-all Brandybucks thought the lad should be brought up out there in the wild with them. You know – not separate him from his cousins and whatnot. Silly thinking. There's so many Brandybucks at that big hall out there that young Frodo only got passed around from one aunt and uncle to another. Never really had a proper foster parent. I heard he started to get into some trouble when he was about eighteen or so. I don't cotton onto such rubbish talk, myself. I always thought it was Master Meriodoc Brandybuck who started all the trouble out that way, and Frodo was the one that got caught. Anyway, that's about the time Master Bilbo Baggins finally asserted family prerogatives in the matter. Mister Bilbo always did get along well with the Brandybucks and Tooks…had something of a peculiar streak in 'im which runs contrary to normal Baggins sensibilities. Master Baggins went over to Buckland and convinced the Master of Brandy Hall to let him adopt Frodo and finish raising the lad back at Hobbiton. Really, it did turn out for the best. Young Mister Baggins settled down once his uncle learned him proper Shire manners. He's a right fine young hobbit, adventures not withstanding."  
  
Iris took a sip of her tea, pondering this information. The Mayor was in a genial talkative mood. Since he was the Mayor, he knew most of the gossip and history of all the families in the Shire. Perhaps he could tell her what happened to Frodo and Sam during the War.  
  
"Yes, he is a fine young hobbit," Iris agreed. "But he's been gone on an adventure the last two years, hasn't he? Didn't he have something to do with the recent troubles down South?"  
  
"Well, yes. He and Gardener Hamfast Gamgee's son, Samwise. Don't quite know what they actually did during the troubles, but they and their friends saved the Shire from that nasty ruffian, Sharkey. Surely you've seen the two young lordlings, Captains Meriodoc Brandybuck and young Peregrin Took? Can't mistake them. Couple of very tall hobbit lads. Ride around on big ponies all the time wearing these outlandish military garments. Rather ostentatious if you ask me, but the lasses all like 'em. I hear they got them by being in some battles in places down south. Someplace called Rohan or Gondor or Fanghorn or something foreign. Don't think Master Baggins or Samwise Gamgee were in the battles though. I do know that Master Baggins lost his ring finger while away on his trip. I heard a rumor that something wicked bit it off! Imagine that! Must have been some wild beast they have down in the south. But he won't talk about it to anyone. Master Frodo's very closed-mouthed about what he did while he and the others were away.  
  
All four of them are thick as thieves, but they are good lads and well- mannered. They rescued all of us out of the Lockholes, and rousted the ruffians from the Shire. Great lads, those. That Peregrin Took will be Thain someday, mark my words. Captain Brandybuck's already taken over the Shire-muster. Good lads. Hope they settle down soon. Find a nice lass and raise a family."  
  
Iris took her leave of the Mayor, gathered her bag and fastened her cloak against the freezing walk home. As Mistress Whitfoot softly closed the door behind her, a gust of wind whipped her hood off her head. "That was worth the drenching," thought Iris as she tramped down the hill towards the lights of the little homes of Hobbiton on the Water. 


	9. Coming Out Party

1.1 Chapter Rating: PG  
  
1.2 Chapter 9: Coming Out Party  
  
December 16th  
  
The next day was no better weather-wise than the previous. Rain continued to freeze as it hit the already saturated ground. Icicles formed on eaves. No one was out in the terrible weather. All of Hobbiton relaxed inside snug homes and smials. Even the little temporary home of Tandy Bofin and Iris Proudfoot seemed luxuriously warm and inviting compared to the winter storm raging outside. It was the perfect day for drinking hot mulled wine and reminiscing.  
  
Tandy Bofin was several years his cousin Iris's senior. He was engaged to Opal Fairbarn from Scary, but their wedding had been postponed until Tandy's living quarters were rebuilt. Tandy's people had always lived in Hobbiton, and one of the Bofins had always been its Apothecary. They were a steady, respectable family of plump, pleasant hobbits, in no way mixed up with adventures or trouble. A little bit more book-learned than most hobbits, but this was tolerated since it complimented their family business. Tandy was, in fact, distantly related to both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins, but had always kept their meetings on a professional level.  
  
Most hobbits farmed for food, but the Bofins concentrated their efforts on medicinal plants. There had always been a therapeutic garden behind the Apothecary, as well as a large flower garden for making special teas. Tandy learned the family trade from his father, who had recently passed on. Tandy worked at the Apothecary since he was a tiny hobbit lad; mixing potions, distilling essences, making poultices, packaging teas and even perfecting a perfume or two.  
  
A little bit of woodworking entered his trade from time to time, as he was required to make splints, crutches and canes. On bad weather days such as today, he spent his time whittling cane heads into fantastical shapes. Today he was working on a rather elaborate dragonhead carved from red maple. He was planning on inlaying some mother-of-pearl for the scales on the dragon's breast. It was to be a present to his future father-in-law. Tandy was taking extra special care on this carving. A small pile of wood shavings curled at his feet, to occasionally be swept up and tossed into the glowing fireplace. He had worked all day on the carving, and it was now well past suppertime.  
  
Across from him sat his cousin, Iris Proudfoot, the new Hobbiton Physician. She was pleasant enough to look at in a rather typical hobbit way. Her brown curly hair was pulled back into a plat with the occasional tiny curl escaping from the braid. Her only unusual feature was her green eyes. They were leaf green – not hazel or grey-green, but true green. It was a family trait on her father's side which cropped up every other generation or so.  
  
Iris sat by the fire reading a well-thumbed black leather bound book. She had brought most of her medical books with her from the South Farthing when she moved to Hobbiton. Since the ice storm was keeping her and her patients house-bound, she had decided to unpack her reference books. But since she and her cousin were forced to live inside a converted shack instead of a real house or hole, there was no place for the books to go. Her beloved books would have to remain in their boxes until the Apothecary, Physicians Office and their attendant living quarters were rebuilt.  
  
"Tandy, what do you know about Frodo Baggins?" Iris asked.  
  
"Well, I've known Frodo Baggins ever since he moved to Bag End with his cousin Bilbo," he said. Tandy continued to carve on the dragon head. "What do you want to know about 'em?"  
  
"Bilbo is his cousin?" Iris looked up from her book. "I thought Bilbo was Frodo's uncle."  
  
"That's what most folk think," Tandy replied. "I know the family a little better than most. In fact, I'm related to both of them on my father's side. Old Master Bilbo is actually Frodo's distant cousin, related through a great-uncle. But it's that Brandybuck clan, and one can get awfully mixed up about who's related to whom when dealing with the Brandybucks. Anyway, it's just easier to call Mister Bilbo 'Uncle' ain't it? Old Master Bilbo adopted Frodo legally too, so I figure it's right for Frodo to call 'em 'Uncle.' For all we know, you might be more closely related to Bilbo Baggins than Frodo is. I know there was a Proudfoot what married into that group sometime ago.  
  
I've known Frodo since before he came of age. He was nineteen when he came to live over at Bag End. That was many years ago. I wasn't of age back then either. Guess I was only about thirty. I've seen 'em grow up into a fine young hobbit. Except, of course, he's not that young anymore. Well, neither am I! But he's kept his youthful looks a lot better than I have, that's for sure. Guess it runs in the Baggins side of the family, since old Master Bilbo was remarkably well-preserved, even into his hundreds.  
  
Iris, I bet you don't remember meeting Frodo. You did, you know. Do you remember that party the Thain threw for his eldest daughter Pearl's twenty- first birthday?"  
  
"The one at the Great Smials of Tuckborogh?" Iris asked. "The one where cousin Pearl got into such trouble? Oh! I remember Frodo now! He was one of the lads who got into a fight, right?"  
  
"That's him," chuckled Tandy. "Anytime he and his cousin Meriodoc Brandybuck got together they would always get into trouble. Personally, I think it's Captain Merry who planned on all that trouble, and Frodo just got carried away with the fun. But that sure was a party."  
  
Iris remembered Frodo from when she met him at a dance years ago given by the Thain at the Great Smials in Tuckborough. It was Pearl Took's twenty- first birthday party (her "coming out" party). Iris was twenty-five years old at the time.  
  
"Frodo must be slightly older than me – probably his fifties," she mused. But at the time of the infamous party he was in his late tweens, rapidly approaching his adulthood. All the Tooks and their relatives were invited to this most important date in a young hobbit lass's life. Iris, being related to the Took family on her mother's side, attended the party with her mother. Tandy was there as well.  
  
She remembered meeting Bilbo Baggins, and then being introduced to his young adopted heir and nephew, Frodo. All the young hobbit lasses were talking about Frodo and his rich Uncle Bilbo. Rumor had it that Bilbo had a fortune in dragon gold stashed away at his luxurious smial near Hobbiton. That rumor seemed to be a fact to young Iris, as both Bilbo and Frodo were arrayed in the most beautiful and obviously expensive matching waistcoat and vest sets she had ever seen. Bilbo's was of a rich paisley embroidered pattern with honey yellow trim. Frodo's suit was a more sober chocolate brown. It only served to highlight his impossibly wide blue eyes, thick curly dark brown hair and luminescent skin. He was a bit thin for a hobbit, but not bad looking. He and his uncle made a very striking pair.  
  
It was obvious to Iris that Frodo and Bilbo had been invited to the party for the specific reason of introducing Frodo to Pearl Took as a possible future wife. The Thain's wife made it her business to seat Frodo across from Pearl at the table during the formal dinner. And afterwards, she prompt her daughter into making herself available to the young Master Baggins for dancing. But Pearl was a good sport about the whole thing. Pearl wasn't ready yet to have a special lad as her steady boyfriend, and spent most of the night in the company of her small group of close-knit girlfriends.  
  
As the evening advanced, the party moved from the indoor dinning hall to a well-mown field next to the Great Smials. A large wooden dance floor had been set up, complete with gaily colored lanterns and ribbons of various hues. A long table with more tidbits to nibble on and a generous selection of punches, ales and barrel beer was right next to the dance floor. Oil lamps set into baskets and staked into the ground cast fantastical beams of light and shadow across the dance floor. A local band provided the rousing music. Several guests had brought their musical instruments with them to supplement the band.  
  
Dancing continued as dusk faded into twilight, and twilight into early evening. Folk wandered in and out of the Great Dining Hall of the Smials, sampling the food, drinking mugs of fine White Downs beer, and dancing. Off to one side of the dance floor stood the unmarried lads. On the opposite stood the unmarried lasses. In the middle of it all was Pearl, the center of attention, and loving every minute.  
  
After an hour of dancing and drinking, Pearl left the dance floor and went over to the hobbit lasses area. Iris, Belladona Bolger, Estella Bracegirdle and Pearl went inside a room of the Great Smial off to the side of the Dining Hall. Pearl wanted to talk about boys with her older and more-experienced (so she thought) cousins.  
  
"Did you see Billy Cooper?" Pearl giggled. She was a bit tipsy from the ale. "He's so cute! And he sure can dance. He tried to get me to kiss him while we were dancing. Bet he's been with a lass or two already!" Pearl wanted to know about sex in the worse possible way. Being the eldest of the Took children, she had no siblings to ask. And asking her parents was just unthinkable to the young lass.  
  
The older lasses decided their cousin needed to be told the facts of life, especially now since she was twenty-one and would be starting to date soon. Belladona took it upon herself to give a graphic description of a lad's anatomy and how they changed when aroused. Pearl was a bit dubious about this, but her curiosity was definitely peaked by this bit of information. Iris warned her younger cousin about the consequences of intercourse - making a baby.  
  
"Yes, and once you do it with one of 'em, they'll expect you to do it all the time," Belladona complained. "And they gossip amongst themselves too. So be careful about doing it with someone you don't really know all that well."  
  
The girl talk degenrated quickly. Estella told several very off-color jokes, making the lasses giggle uncontrollably. They stifled their laughter as an elderly hobbitess passed by.  
  
"But what do you actually do?" Pearl implored. "I mean, how do you do it?"  
  
Belladona snickered. Estella gave Pearl the facts of life. Pearl was grossed out at the description, but was also intrigued.  
  
"You wait," Pearl bragged, "I'm going to get one of the lads to drop his pants before the night's over." The group of cousins giggled some more and went out of the Smial and over to the lasses' side of the dance floor.  
  
"Well, it's not hard to get a Brandybuck to do that!" Estella whispered. "If you really want to see something, just ask Merry Brandybuck to show you his. He'll drop trousers in a heartbeat. He's a rascal."  
  
Iris snorted with laughter. "Daisy Bofin told me she went on a date with Merry last week and it was all she could do to keep him off her. He's all hands and tongue. Sloppy kisser too."  
  
"I bet you can't get Frodo Baggins to do it," said Belladona. "Those Bagginses are all so formal and polite. They never do anything even slightly naughty. I mean, look at Frodo over there. He's so dreamy, but he hasn't kissed a single lass all evening. He's the ultimate challenge."  
  
"I don't know about that," Pearl said. "His uncle suddenly went off and had an adventure without anyone ever suspecting he could do something as abnormal as that. And there's always Wizards and Dwarves coming and going out of that smial at Bag End. Why, I even heard that Frodo and Bilbo have met Elves before!"  
  
"Elves?" said Iris, "Oh, I would love to meet an Elf. But why would someone as lofty as an Elf ever want to meet a hobbit?"  
  
Pearl was paying no attention to the sudden turn of the conversation. She was deep in her own thoughts for a minute or so. "OK, that's the challenge for the night," Pearl suddenly said. "One of us has to get Frodo Baggins to drop trousers." There was more giggling, but the challenge had been laid out and implicitly accepted.  
  
The girls were interrupted by the arrival of Mistress Took. She shooed them back to the dance floor. The Took matriarch wanted Pearl to dance with all the eligible young bachelors. The lads and lasses were freely intermingling now. No one in particular had a partner – they were all simply enjoying the evening and the music and the physical pleasure of touching each other while dancing. The dance was chaperoned by the Thain and his wife. Saradoc Brandybuck and his wife Esmeralda were also helping chaperone. They mostly looked the other way at the gentle groping going on during the slower dance numbers. In fact, the Thain danced with his wife during one particularly slow tune. Maybe little six-year old Pippin would have a new brother or sister by the time the night was over.  
  
Frodo had been dancing with all the lasses the entire evening and was having a great time. This wasn't at all the boring birthday party he thought it would be. He had had a couple of ales while dancing, and was feeling rather fine. The lasses were all looking pretty fine as well. He had just finished getting himself a little nibble of food when Estella boldly came over to him. Without a word she grabbed his hand and pulled him back onto the dance floor. He noticed a couple other lasses watching them and giggling. He didn't mind. Estella had a great body and didn't mind serendipitously rubbing it against him at every opportunity. "This party is getting better and better!" he thought.  
  
Just as one number ended, another one began. Belladona ran up onto the dance floor and cut Estella out of the dance. Estella stomped off the floor and would have killed her cousin with a glance, if only Belladona would look. She was busy keeping Frodo on the dance floor and insisting that he dance with her now.  
  
After that number ended, Iris did the same thing. Frodo was getting sweaty with all this dancing, but it was the most excitement he had had in a long time. "The Hobbiton lasses aren't at all like these country lasses," he thought. "Wonder if I could get one of them alone for a few minutes?"  
  
He was really enjoying all the attention from the lasses. He enjoyed the closeness of their bodies too. He was starting to get excited from all the close contact with the lasses. He hoped for a slow number soon so he could rearrange himself into a more comfortably position, and possibly sneak a kiss or two. As the music ended, Pearl slyly came up with to him with an ale in her hand.  
  
"It's getting a bit warm on the dance floor, isn't it Frodo?" Pearl purred. She looked a lot older than twenty-one right then. She handed him the mug of ale. He kissed Iris gallantly on the hand then gratefully grabbed the ale. Pearl lead him off the dance floor and past the tangle of couples making small talk on the lawn.  
  
Iris silently cursed herself for not thinking of the ale first! She saw Pearl leading Frodo off to a dark corner of the party field. There was a large old oak tree on the edge of the nearby cornfield. Iris's cousin Tom Bolger grabbed her by the hand and swept her back up into another dance. Her last glimpse of Frodo saw him setting down his now-empty mug, and Pearl leading him towards the back of the tree.  
  
The hiss and pop of another log being thrown on the fire abruptly brought Iris back to the present. She was in her new 'home' in Hobbiton. An ice storm was raging outside, and her cousin was tending the fire.  
  
"Must have been some interesting memories," Tandy said with a grin. "You've been lost in thought for quite a few minutes."  
  
"I had forgotten all about that party," Iris said, smiling. "What do you remember?"  
  
"Well," Tandy said, "I vividly remember that Frodo and Merry ended up getting into a fight over Pearl. Took the Thain and Merry's Dad to pull the two of them apart. Then, curiously, Frodo and Merry were the best of friends the next morning. Pearl ended up getting engaged a few years later to one of the Bracegirdles. I never knew what caused that fight, but it didn't last long and it didn't hurt their friendship none. And now, my dear cousin, I'm off to bed. Make sure the screen is secure around the fireplace before you turn in, won't you?"  
  
"Goodnight Tandy," Iris said. "Sleep well." 


	10. Arrangements

Chapter Rating: PG (adult themes, mild language)  
  
Chapter 10: Arrangements  
  
Timeline deviation warning: This is where it starts deviating from RoTK. You've been warned.  
  
December 17th  
  
"Uh, Mister Frodo? Could I have a word with you?"  
  
Sam stood at the door of Bag End. He was back from one of his frequent trips about the Shire. Sam had plenty of time during his extended trips to ponder his own situation, and had run up against a problem. Maybe his beloved master and friend, Frodo Baggins, could help.  
  
"Sam! Come in! You don't have to knock." Frodo hurried his best friend inside the hallway and out of the cold. "Here. Let me take your cloak." Frodo hung Sam's grey-green traveling cloak next to an identical one already hanging on the pegs in the hall.  
  
"What do you think of the new door, Sam?" Frodo inquired as he took Sam by the arm and lead him into the adjacent study.  
  
"Right nice there Mister Frodo. The green looks to be the same as what Mister Bilbo used to fancy. And the new bells make as pretty a sound as I've ever heard."  
  
A huge fire was roaring in the fireplace. Frodo always kept his rooms a little too warm for Sam, but Sam never complained. He took off his coat and draped it over the chair before sinking into its soft leather depths with a contented sigh.  
  
"Thanks, Sam," Frodo said. "I like the door too. Harry Smallfoot did a very nice job with it. Sit down. Can I get you something? Rosie and I hauled over a new barrel of Barliman's Beer yesterday. Merry had it sent over last week from Bree. Care to help me with the first tapping?" Frodo disappeared into the kitchen and immediately returned with a couple of mugs.  
  
"Sure! I'm always a go for some of Barliman's finest."  
  
Sam loved a good beer. Actually, all hobbits loved good beer. Frodo grabbed a candle and lead Sam back into the depths of the hobbit hole. They passed several closed doors and branching interior hallways, eventually reaching the smial's dark, cool storeroom. A lone oaken barrel rested on its wooden chops. The words "BREE" and "PRANCING PONY" were stenciled on the side in large black letters.  
  
Frodo tapped the keg and handed the first mug-full to Sam. Sam politely waited until Frodo had filled his own mug, then took a big sniff. It smelled like golden autumn sunshine kissed with sharp winter moonlight. Sam took a big gulp and politely belched after wiping the frothy head off his upper lip using his shirt sleeve.  
  
"Ahhhh….what a beer! Makes me Gaffer's homebrew taste like pig's piss."  
  
They had a good laugh as they wound their way back to the study. The room was stuffed with books and boxes of papers. The plain wooden desk Frodo was using was burdened with piles of notes and maps. A few quills and sticks of charcoal rested atop a piece of parchment which was evidently undergoing preliminary sketching into yet another map. Settling into an armchair closest to the fire, Frodo asked, "What brings you to Bag End?"  
  
"Well now, I've had a lot of time to meself being gone on these trips and all. It's got me thinking about things and I've run into a bit of a problem, you see." Sam took another deep pull on his beer. How could he say this?  
  
"What sort of problem?" Frodo's eyebrows knitted together in concern and he leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees. "I do hope there is not more trouble with infiltrators coming into the Shire."  
  
"Oh no! Nothing like that," Sam was quick to reply. "It's more of a personal sort of problem, if you get me. It's got nuthin to do with Outsiders or the trees or the rebuilding or the food supply. It's…well…it's personal." Sam looked down and contemplated his beer.  
  
"Sam, dearest friend, what is it?" Frodo was relieved that whatever was on Sam's mind didn't seem to have to do with the problems they had found upon returning to the Shire. "Come on Sam. Out with it. Getting you to talk about a personal problem is like trying to get milk from a chicken."  
  
Sam grinned. "Yeh, I know." He paused. The tips of his ears began to turn red and he was unconsciously tapping his foot.  
  
"It's…well…it's about me and you…and me and Rosie…and well…you know, what to do with it all, if you see what I mean?" Sam didn't take his eyes off his beer.  
  
"Sam, I have no idea what you are talking about," Frodo sighed, leaning back into his chair and sipping his beer.  
  
"Well…it ain't too easy for me to say neither. Guess I just better get it all out straightways as I can. Ever since we came back I've been kinda torn in two. I want to stay with you and help you out and all. But I also want to be with Rosie. She and I, well… She and me…I mean…well…"  
  
"You want to marry Rose Cotton, is that it?" Frodo gently asked.  
  
Sam nodded. "But I got a problem about where to live afterwards. I don't want to move out to that big farm of her dad's. I mean…I dearly love the Cottons. Master Cotton and the Mistress and Nibs and the lads and all. But there's no privacy out there. Me Gaffer's moving back into Bag Shot Row soon and I expect I'll be moving in with him then. I've always been from 'round the Hill and I want to live there. Don't get me wrong. I love me Gaffer. But I don't want to get married and have Rosie have to put up with his ways. He weren't too nice to me when I was growing up, and I'll not have him being rough with her or any wee lads and lasses we might be having."  
  
The room was very still. Only the occasional pop of a log in the fire interrupted the silence.  
  
Sam had gotten very introspective. Frodo had never heard him speak of his childhood this way. Everyone in Hobbiton and Bag End knew that Hamfast Gamgee was rough on his wife and children, but few had the nerve to confront the Gaffer about it. The only one who had intervened between the Gaffer and the object of his anger was Bilbo Baggins. There were times when Sam had taken refuge at Bag End, hiding out with Frodo until Bilbo could calm down his gardener. Frodo didn't really understand why Sam still supported his father, but kept his peace.  
  
"I always expected to be the Bag End gardener like me Gaffer. It's all I ever wanted to do," Sam whispered. "I never expected to be traveling all the time. Nor did I ever expect to have to replant the whole Shire."  
  
Sam looked up at Frodo. "When we were in that place with the orcs about to go into Mordor, and you were stung by that Shelob creature, and I had to take the Ring from you for awhile…I…well… um…" He looked at his feet and shifted uncomfortably in the chair.  
  
"Go on," Frodo quietly said.  
  
"Well…um…did you ever see things, like vision things, when you was wearing It? I know this sounds crazy, but did It ever talk to you when you was wearing it? Like, tempt you with crazy ideas and such?" Sam whispered..  
  
"That does not sound crazy at all to me, Sam," Frodo gently said. "Yes, the Ring put strange thoughts in my head and tempted me. What did it tempt you with, Sam?"  
  
Sam sighed, "It told me I could stop all the death and destruction, and change the land so that it bloomed and grew strong again. It said if only I would claim it, I could turn even Mordor into a paradise, full of flowers and birds and fruit and such. I knew it was telling me a lie, but it's strange the way things work out. I only wanted to be a gardener with one little garden for my own. I just wanted to go home here to Bag End and take care of you and the gardens. I turned down using that Ring just so I could go home to a plain, simple life. But now that I'm here, folk expect me to do a miracle and make the whole Shire blossom and grow beautiful again. I never wanted this responsibility. I just wanted to do a spot of gardening, look after you, marry Rosie Cotton, and raise a family."  
  
Frodo got up, went over behind Sam's chair and placed his slender hand on Sam's shoulder.  
  
"You are home, Sam," he said. "All I have is yours." Sam bowed his head and took Frodo's hand in his.  
  
"Bag End is not much to look at right now," Frodo continued, "but we can turn it into a home again. Why don't you wait until we can get it livable, then marry Rose Cotton and the two of you move in here with me? There is plenty of room at Bag End for as large a family as you could ever desire."  
  
Sam stood and gave Frodo a hug. "I don't rightly know what to say. I don't properly khow how to thank you." They were both teary-eyed.  
  
"Come on," Frodo said, "let's have another beer to celebrate. We'll toast you and Rosie and Bag End." 


	11. Prelude

Chapter rating: PG  
  
Chapter 11: Prelude  
  
December 18th  
  
Fredigar (Freddy as he was now called) Bolger had become one of the most respected hobbits in Hobbiton. He was adroit at implementing Frodo Baggins's plans for reconstructing the buildings and support structures of the village. His most ambitious, and by-far most controversial, engineering feat was the dredging of The Water. Many had thought the pollution caused by the new Mechanical Mill was too great to ever be rectified. But Freddy would not hear of that sort of defeatist attitude.  
  
"If I had reacted the same way when I was arrested and tortured and thrown into the Lockholes, I'd be dead now," he reminded his distracters. "Don't you dare tell me something can't be done."  
  
Samwise Gamgee and Freddy had come up with a plan for stripping the once- lovely waterway of its pollution, and returning it to a safe source of drinking water for the community. The actual implementation of the plan had been totally left up to Freddy. Sam was busy with restoring the trees and hedges in the area, and Frodo was unwilling to leave the safety of Bag End.  
  
Today marked the completion of the dredging of The Water. All pollution had been removed. The good hobbits of Hobbiton and Bywater had to dam and divert The Water, and then remove a good six inches of river bottom. They then replanted river vegetation and restocked the river with fish brought in from other parts of the Shire. In fact, the first time they replanted, the plants had all died. But Freddy engineered a controlled flooding of the waterway to carry away another inch of polluted mud. They replanted again. It had worked! The plants thrived. Now the little river flowed again in its banks, and the town had good, clean water. Ducks returned to swim along its icy banks.  
  
But Freddy was beginning to suspect something terrible had happened to Frodo. Something which was slowly consuming his friend. But Frodo was completely unwilling to talk about his actions during the War, and Freddy was not going to press the issue.  
  
"If Frodo Baggins wants to talk about things, he will. If he don't, then don't bother him," he told curious townsfolk when they asked about the mysterious Mister Baggins.  
  
A rumor spread around the villages that the new Deputy Mayor was a very, very private person and didn't receive anyone unless they first went through Master Samwise Gamgee, Captain Meriodoc Brandybuck, Captain Peregrin Took or Master Fredigar Bolger. Eventually, the townsfolk stopped going to Bag End for official business, unless directed to. They were quite content to get necessary direction from Sam, Merry, Pippin or Freddy, and left the strange Mister Baggins alone.  
  
This actually didn't bother Frodo in the least. He was tired most days, and frequently in a state of low-level pain. He wanted to be left alone at Bag End to try to find some quiet and rest. He was gradually dropping out of Hobbiton society and becoming somewhat of a recluse.  
  
The rumors about Frodo hurt Sam the worst. It pained him to see the townsfolk give their praise and admiration to Merry and Pippin and Freddy (and unbeknownst to himself, to Sam), and see them politely ignore Frodo. But Sam acquiesced to Frodo's wishes for solitude. Sam didn't think it healthy, and tried to get Frodo to interact socially as many different ways as he could think of doing. But mostly Frodo respectfully declined, preferring to remain in his study at Bag End or in his bedroom at the Cotton's farm or outside on one of his frequent long walks.  
  
In Hobbiton, the new physician was settling in nicely. Iris's services were needed and greatly appreciated by the population. Most medical problems were the typical small town and farm emergencies: cuts, scrapes, old age illnesses, the occasional broken bone or farming accident. Her next office call was to be quite different.  
  
"Miss Proudfoot, 'Mam?" the voice said as it knocked on the door to her combined bedroom and physician's office.  
  
"Please come in," she replied.  
  
In walked a rather plain, but handsome and very fit hobbit in his early thirties. He was evidently from the farming class, wearing homespun and acting a bit nervous around a professional. But his demeanor was one of quiet competence and self-assuredness. Iris immediately liked him.  
  
"Please have a seat," Iris intoned. "I'm Doctor Proudfoot. And you are?"  
  
"Samwise Gamgee, 'Mam. Very pleased to meet you too, if I do say. It's wonderful that you're here in Hobbiton, 'Mam."  
  
"Thank you Mister Gamgee. Now, how may I be of assistance today?"  
  
"Please call me Sam," Sam replied. "Me dad is Mister Gamgee round here. Anyways, well, you see, it's not exactly me what I've come about. It's Mister Baggins. Mister Frodo Baggins of Bag End. You see, I'm his friend, and well…well, we're getting right concerned about his health and all. He won't say naught about it to anyone else, but you see, he's hurting abit and I thought you could do something for him. Something to ease his pain and all."  
  
"I was introduced to Mister Baggins when I first moved to Hobbiton," Iris said gently. "I'm sure you are a close friend of his, and might be worried. But Mister Baggins didn't express any concerns about his own health then. I really don't see why I should intervene in a hobbit's own personal health problems if he doesn't voluntarily come to me. Rarely does this sort of intervention work without the patient's consent."  
  
"But you see, 'Mam," Sam continued, "you see, he's not in his right mind. Not since the War. He's all closed up. Something is really gnawing at him. And I think this gnawing at him is making him sick. I know he don't want us telling about his doings during the Troubles, but it's been bothering me ever since we came back from Gondor. Something is terrible wrong with Mister Frodo. I just know it. He's in pain most all the time now. He hides it real well, but I can see it. And that just ain't right, now is it 'Mam? It ain't right to let another person you love suffer when you know there might be a way you can help out."  
  
"You're right, Sam," Iris said as gently as she could. "It's not right. But the patient has to want to be helped. We cannot force help upon him."  
  
"Well, 'Mam, whether he actually says it outright or no, he's asking for help. I can hear it. Freddy Bolger noticed it too. Can you think of some way to help Mister Frodo? I mean, he's getting further and further away from real life. He stays in his little room all day, thinking on things he aught not to be thinkin' about. Sometimes when I come in un-expectantly, he's just sitting there in his chair, staring into space, muttering to himself. Is there something we can do to get him interested in living again? Back into the real world and out of the shadows? Is there something you can do?"  
  
"Sam, this doesn't sound very good. I don't know if I will be of any help in this type of situation, but I can try. Now tell me his symptoms. Tell me about what happened to you two down South. What could have caused Mister Baggins to turn into a recluse like this?"  
  
"Uh, 'Mam. Beggin' your pardon, but I don't think I really want to talk about the details of what we had to do in Mordor. It's not my place to talk about what happened to him there. But we went through some horrible times together. He was wounded, and I know the wound bothers him still. But it's his mind what is damaged the worse. I don't think he can stop thinking about the Ring."  
  
"Ring?" Iris said. "What ring?"  
  
"The Ring of Power that Mister Frodo had to carry all the way to Mordor," Sam quietly replied. "It was his task to take It to the Fires of Mount Doom. We were supposed to cast it into the fire and destroy its evil forever. And he did it! No one else in Middle Earth could have done what my Frodo did! Not the Elves, not Men, not even the Lady Galadriel or even Gandalf could do what Mister Frodo did! But now he's all twisted like, and broken. He ain't been himself ever since that day. Would you please come see him? I would give anything for him to get over whatever nightmares he keeps reliving. I want him to be healthy and strong again. Would you please go visit him up at Bag End? Maybe see if there's anything you can do? Please?"  
  
"Well, Sam, I shall try. I'll make up an excuse to visit Bag End. It may be I will find your fears unjustifiable. But I promise you, I will go visit Mister Baggins, and look in on him from time to time. Is that satisfactory?" Iris looked into Sam's eyes.  
  
"Yes, 'Mam," he replied, his gaze just as unwavering as hers. "I'm mighty grateful to you. Thank you."  
  
That afternoon Iris called at Bag End.  
  
"Miss Proudfoot," Frodo said as he answered the doorbells. "Come in. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" He ushered her into the study.  
  
"Thank you Mister Baggins," she started, seating herself in a chair. Frodo went to his usual chair by the fireplace and settled into his armchair with a slight lean to the right. His left shoulder was hurting him, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself.  
  
"Oh, please call me Frodo," he interrupted.  
  
"Only if you will call me Iris," she countered.  
  
"Wonderful. Now that that bit of business is out of the way, what may I do for you?"  
  
Iris intently studied Frodo throughout the conversation. "I have made an inventory of my medical supplies and find they probably will not last through the anticipated needs of the winter. Could you arrange for additional supplies to be brought in from somewhere? Perhaps you and I could travel to Bree and purchase some?"  
  
"No need to travel. I'll send word to Captain Merry at Brandy Hall. He can travel out to Bree and purchase whatever you need. Just draw up a list and I will see that it gets done."  
  
"You're very kind," Iris said. "I can give you a list back at my office in Hobbiton. When would be a convenient time for you to come down?"  
  
"Oh…I'll just send a messenger for it," Frodo said, then suddenly changed his mind, a bit suspicious of this line of questioning. "No, wait, that's silly. I'll come down tomorrow, if that is convenient with you? About eleven?"  
  
"That is fine," she said. She noted that Frodo seemed to favor his left arm somewhat, and that he unconsciously rubbed the stump of his missing ring finger. "Must be bothering him, like Sam said, but it's nothing unusual. Sam must be hyper-sensitive to this," she thought as she stood up to leave. "I'll see you at eleven then. A pleasure again, Mister Baggins…I mean, Frodo. Please feel free to come visit any time."  
  
"Thank you Iris," Frodo said as he escorted her to the door. "See you tomorrow."  
  
Frodo already had plans to visit Hobbiton the next day anyway. That day he traveled over to Mayor Will Whitfoot's house to present his finished plan for the rebuilding of Hobbiton. The Mayor was pleased with the plan, and gave Frodo permission to present it to the general populace at a special meeting at the Mathom House in Micheldelving in two weeks.  
  
"Two weeks!" Frodo exclaimed, "I can't get something that large organized in two weeks!"  
  
"Then delegate, my boy, delegate," the Mayor boomed. He was very pleased with Frodo's plan and wanted to show it off at the earliest opportunity.  
  
"But sir, I really am not good at running public meetings." Frodo was beginning to panic. He preferred to work quietly in the background and let others do the speaking.  
  
Frodo continued, "…and this would be the perfect opportunity for your return to the world politic. Do you think you would be well enough to officiate the town meeting yourself? I would be able to present the plan, when appropriate. And I will take care of organizing it, as long as you do the actual officiating."  
  
"My boy, and excellent suggestion! I accept your proposal, as long as I don't have to do the organizing," the Mayor said. And so it was agreed.  
  
After visiting the Mayor, Frodo stopped by the physician's office. It was evident he was in a hurry to leave, so Iris gave him the list of medical supplies she required. She didn't note anything unusual, except that Frodo never took off his outer cloak. He kept it tightly wrapped against his body at all times. It was as if he was still cold inside the building.  
  
When he got to Bag End Frodo immediately wrote Pippin a letter, asking him to organize the meeting. When Pippin received the letter the next day, he 'improved' Frodo's plan by adding a party to go with the meeting, including liberation of the casks of ale that Sharkey's men had stored at the Mathom House.  
  
Frodo also sent Merry a letter, detailing the medical supplies urgently needed for Hobbiton. Merry traveled to The Prancing Pony at Bree and arranged the purchase of medical supplies via Mr. Butterbur. Merry traveled back after a week's stay at the hospitable inn. He even arranged for the purchase of a couple extra barrels of Barliman's Pale Ale after sampling every available brew on hand.  
  
Word of the general meeting was published throughout the Shire, even out to Bree and Archet.  
  
December 20th  
  
The first new hobbit hole on New Row was finished. It was Freddy Bolger's honor to name the new road and cut the ribbon. The Gaffer moved back into Bag Shot Row #3, and Sam moved in with him. It was not a loving relationship between father and son, but the Gaffer was less proned to violence as he aged. The only abuse Sam had to deal with now was verbal, and he ignored most of that.  
  
Frodo still spent the nights with the Cotton family, since Bag End was still under renovation. When he was not helping Sam out with Bag End restoration, he was in the study working on the presentation for the public meeting. Frodo did not get to spend any time editing his beloved Uncle Bilbo's book. The renovations to Bag End were extensive. Sam came over when he could to help Frodo. But most of Sam's time was now taken up with implementing the agricultural plan.  
  
On December 20th, Sam made one of the scariest and most important trips of his life. When later asked, he compared it to the near-drowning he experienced on the Great River Anduin. He traveled the short distance from Bag Shot Row #3 to Farmer Cotton's farm. That night Sam asked for Rosie's hand in marriage. It was decided to announce their engagement at the Rebuilding Meeting. 


	12. Mathom House Party

Chapter Rating: G  
  
Chapter 12: Mathom House Party  
  
December 22nd  
  
The Hobbiton Rebuilding Meeting was held in the largest room available in the Shire…the Micheldelving Mathom House's "Great Room." The entire population of Hobbiton, Bywater, Bag End, and surrounding farms crowded into the grand hallway and adjacent rooms.  
  
Everyone was overjoyed to see Mayor and Mistress Whitfoot in attendance. It was good to see the elderly gentlehobbit back at a public meeting, his wife at his side beaming with pride. Even though he was still too frail to resume all of his Mayoral duties, the townsfolk were pleasantly surprised when the Mayor officiated the meeting. Master Whitfoot did the introductions, hand shaking and formalities required of the occasion, then handed the meeting over to the Deputy Mayor.  
  
Frodo explained the Hobbiton Rebuilding Plan's details and answered questions. After some discussion, the townsfolk approved Frodo's designs for new building construction and road works. Mayor Whitfoot made a grand speech afterwards, with much clapping and back-slapping. The business meeting was adjourned and the party commenced immediately.  
  
The old, dusty Mathom House came alive with lights, music, ale and dancing. This was the first public celebration held since Sharkey's demise, and all were ready for a good time. Large groups of friends and relatives claimed tables and corners in various rooms. Merry and Pippin had reserved a small table back in the corner of the Great Hall for the Travelers and their guests. Folks came and went, but the main group consisted of Sam, Rosie, Merry, Pippin, Freddy, Peony Fairweather (Freddy's girlfriend), and Frodo.  
  
The Traveler's Table (as it was soon called) hosted many guests during first hour of the party. Folk who had never met the famous foursome came by to make their acquaintance and to thank them for the rousting of the ruffians. Iris came over to personally congratulate Frodo on his plan, and was asked to join them at the table. A few others briefly met with Frodo, but the main body of folk were actually there to greet the famous Captains of the Shire-march. Pippin and Merry were the center of attention and couldn't have been more congenial. They were, of course, wearing their Gondor and Rohan outfits and drank out of matching silver goblets emblazoned with the White Tree crest – a gift of the actual King of Gondor himself, if one believed the rumor.  
  
After the steady stream of well-wishers had dried up, Sam gathered his close friends around the table.  
  
"Ahem…Pippin? Could I have your attention for a moment, Captain Took, sir?" Sam called out. Pippin grinned and reluctantly walked away from a beautiful young lass.  
  
"Now that I have everyone's full attention," Sam winked at Pippin, "Rosie and I would like to make our own little announcement." Rose got out of her seat and placed her arm around Sam's waist. Sam cleared his throat and continued.  
  
"Guess you all would have figured it out by now, but I'm real sweet on Miss Rosie Cotton," he began.  
  
"No kidding!" Freddy interrupted.  
  
"And I wanted you all to be the first to know," Sam continued by ignoring Freddy. "Rosie and me are jumping the broom come Mid-Summer's Day."  
  
"Congratulations!" Pippin was grinning from ear to ear as he raised his goblet in salute.  
  
"Yes, my deepest congratulations, Sam and Rosie," Frodo added. At that instant Frodo knew only pride in Sam and happiness for his joy. "May this joy keep him whole," Frodo silently prayed.  
  
"About time!" Merry said as he rolled his eyes, then thought better of it as Pippin jabbed him in the ribs. "I mean, wonderful! This calls for a toast! OK everyone…here's to the happiest couple in the Shire, and I mean that with all sincerity."  
  
"Here, here!" "Well said, Merry."  
  
Merry continued, "And as a fellow Traveler, may I offer the happy couple the use of Crickethollow for your honeymoon? It's not too close, and it's not too far away, and it's a lot more private than the Cotton farm!"  
  
"Oh, Merry, do you really mean it?" Rose asked.  
  
"Indeed I do," Merry smiled. "You and Sam are welcome to it for your honeymoon. I'll make sure Pippin cleans up his mess before you come over."  
  
"My mess?" Pippin protested. "Guess who the real slob is, eh? Pay him no nevermind. Sam, Rosie. We would be honored it you would accept the use of our humble abode for your honeymoon." Pippin completed the offer with a sweeping bow which almost knocked over a passer-by. There was much merriment at the little corner table and the ale flowed as toast followed toast.  
  
Frodo sat in the shadows in the back of the room, observing, but not really participating. He had positioned himself so that his back was in a corner. He was able to view the entire hall while remaining mostly concealed in shadow. Iris sat across from him. She was quite comfortable in quietly talking with him and not pressing him to do anything that might bring attention to himself. Sam and Rosie soon rejoined them at the table.  
  
Pippin and Merry were having a grand time dancing with the lasses and drinking. Pippin was getting a bit tipsy and loud. The band began to play a vigorous dancing tune. It was a well-known popular line dance, so everyone began dancing. Pippin spotted Frodo in the corner and decided Frodo needed to come out and dance too.  
  
Pippin grabbed Frodo by the arm and drug him out of his chair towards the dance floor.  
  
"Pippin, no. I really don't want to dance," Frodo protested repeatedly. "Pip! Come on. Let go. I really don't want to." Frodo was getting agitated now.  
  
"Come on, Frodo!" Pippin drug him further into the crowd. "It'll be fun!" Pippin actually got Frodo up onto the dance floor and started twirling Frodo around, much to Frodo's ever-growing displeasure.  
  
Sam wasn't paying much attention to the scene developing on the dance floor until it was almost too late. As Pippin started twirling Frodo into the line dance, Sam noticed and became quite alarmed. He bolted out of his chair so quickly it toppled over with a clatter. He strode over to Pippin.  
  
Frodo angrily grabbed Pippin and said quite loudly, "Pippin Took! Don't you ever lay a hand on me again!" and shoved Pippin away into the arms of a quite willing lass.  
  
Frodo stomped off the dance floor, totally ignoring Sam. He went back into his chair in the corner. He was almost panting with anger. His face and neck were flushed with embarrassment. Iris noticed that he was unconsciously massaging his left arm again.  
  
Meanwhile, back on the dance floor, Pippin was stunned at Frodo's reaction. The dance line snaked on without him.  
  
"What's the matter with Frodo?" a bewildered Pippin asked Sam.  
  
"Pip – you're still a fool of a Took sometimes," said Sam. "Let's go outside." Sam angrily grabbed Pippin by the coat and forced the much taller hobbit outside into the cold winter night. Sam herded Pippin past the few hobbits outside enjoying their pipes, and round to the dark side of the building.  
  
"Pippin. Don't you ever lay hands on Mister Frodo, ever again! I know you don't mean nothin' by it, but you're sure not thinkin' straight tonight. Frodo's been through a lot worse situations than you'll ever know. And he ain't never goin' to be healthy again neither. He can't do that sort of physical stuff any more. You know that. You saw him on the journey back from Rivendale. But he don't want none but us to know. He just wants to be left alone for some peace and quiet. That means nothing unexpected. No startling him. No forcing him to do things he don't want to do. There's no telling what memories you just brought up for him right then. So get it through your thick block once and for all – never ever do anything what startles Mister Frodo, or I'll have at you. Understand?"  
  
Pippin was abashed. "Gee Sam, I'm sorry! I didn't realize it would hurt him like that. Sam, I'm so sorry! Oh, what should I do now?"  
  
The evident distress on Pippin's voice caused Sam to hesitate a moment. He laid his hands on Pippin's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.  
  
"You owe Frodo an apology. Go on inside and get him an ale. Then, if I was you, I'd avoid him for the rest of the evening. He'll probably forget about it by morning."  
  
Sam and Pippin walked back inside Mathom Hall. The dance was still going on as if nothing had happened. In fact, Freddy and Peony had joined the dancing at the end of the line. Frodo, Iris and Rosie were sitting at the table in an uncomfortable silence while the party swirled around them. Sam and Pippin navigated their way through the dancers and came over to the table.  
  
"Frodo," Pippin said, "I'm sorry I grabbed you like that. Can I make it up to you by getting you an ale or something?"  
  
Frodo looked up at Pippin and forced a small smile. "I'm sorry I lost my temper and pushed you, Pip. No harm done, really. An ale would be fine, thanks."  
  
Pippin was greatly relieved. "Lasses, would either of you care for another?"  
  
"No thanks," replied Rosie. "I've got one going already."  
  
"Come on Rosie," Sam said, "Let's dance." The tone in his voice made it clear that Rose didn't have an option out of it. So the two of them joined hands and quickly headed off to the dance floor.  
  
"I'll have another," said Iris. Pippin quickly left to go get the ales. This left Iris alone with Frodo. He was still sulking in the shadows.  
  
"Frodo," Iris asked, "what was that all about?"  
  
Frodo glanced away from her gaze. "Oh, I dislike being forced to do things like dancing. He should know better. But he is a Took and I should not expect him to remember too many things after having a few ales." He actually smiled and chuckled faintly. But Iris could tell the laugh was forced. It seemed to her that his left shoulder was causing him quite a bit of pain now.  
  
Pippin soon returned with three ales in hand; one for Iris, one for Frodo, and an almost empty one in his silver goblet for himself. He had a different cute young hobbit lass at his side. He drained the rest of his ale, set the goblet on the table, excused himself, and went off onto the dance floor with the young lady. Frodo just shook his head in amusement. Iris was relieved to have the tense situation resolved so quickly. But she was beginning to take Sam's concerns about Frodo quite seriously now. She noticed him massaging his arm. She suspected there was more to this than physical pain.  
  
After a couple ales, Frodo asked Iris to dance a slow, easy dance. He was determined to hide from the physician the aching in his left arm. They danced quietly in the dark corner of the Mathom House.  
  
As they danced, Frodo momentarily forgot the nagging pain in his shoulder. She smelled good. And it felt good to hold someone close. It had been so long since he had been this close physically to anyone, that he was momentarily overcome with the pleasure of touch, and dropped his guard. Iris could feel the tension in his body melt away as they swayed to the slow rhythm. When the music ended they were both reluctant to uncouple. He kissed her hand and she shyly smiled. But she was determined to not be put off by his outward show of gallantry. She knew he was in trouble. 


	13. Snow and Shadow

Chapter Rating: PG (angsty situations)  
  
Chapter title: Snow and Shadow  
  
January S.R. 1420  
  
The winter snows arrived in stately order. Each Wednesday morning dawned to reveal yet another overnight dusting. Neither too much nor too little – always the right amount.  
  
The snows were as steady as clockwork and nearly as predictable as Sam's replanting schedule. Thursdays were for moving the saplings to their new locations. The weather cooperated with a gentle warming on Wednesdays and Thursdays so that the ground was not completely frozen. On Fridays holes were dug for the new plants. Fridays were always fair and warmer than Thursdays. On Saturdays the trees had their root balls freed and were planted and staked. It always rained on Saturday evenings after sunset. Sundays and Mondays were clear and cold again, allowing excellent time to be made on trips around the Shire. This promoted moving stock and saplings out from the Cotton's farm and into temporary storage areas. Then it snowed again on Tuesdays. The cycle continued for an entire month. By that time the replanting of the trees throughout the Shire was complete.  
  
Sam's life during this month was filled to overflowing with the replanting work. It was hard, cold labor, but he didn't mind. A sweet satisfaction of work well-thought out and well-implemented came to his routine. As each tree was planted, Sam placed a single precious grain of the dust of Lothlorien at the base of the root ball. He muttered his own humble blessing on the Lady's gift, hopeful that somehow the blessing of the Lady of the Wood would enrich the soil of his own beloved country.  
  
Sam received his own blessing each Saturday evening. He spent the night at the Cotton farm on Saturdays, visiting with Rosie, the Cottons and Frodo as they whiled away the cold, rainy Saturday evenings with games and story- telling. In deference to Frodo, the stories never ventured into the recent past. They mostly consisted of funny Shire tall tales and well-known ancient Elvish lays about the First and Second Ages.  
  
Frodo knew quite a few of the Elvish epic poems by heart. His lilting voice could captivate an audience as he told and sang of bold deeds and lost loves, of magical talismans and enormous sailing ships from the West, of lands which had sunk into the sea and kingdoms of the immortals, of Men and Elves and the Valar. Saturday evenings after supper were spent gathered around a roaring fire in the living room's fireplace, drinking beer or wine or tea, and listening to tales of far-away places.  
  
Sam always sat on the old rag-braided rug with his back up against the fireplace's raised hearthstone. Rose always snuggled into Sam's strong arms, gathering comfort from the feel of his solid body pressed against hers. Soon they would be married and would move in with Mister Frodo at Bag End. Her happiness was always doubled on Saturdays.  
  
Work continued on rebuilding Lower Hobbiton's business district. The outlines of the Green Dragon Inn, the blacksmith shop, the Apothecary and other buildings sprang up from their foundations. Freddy and Sam had carefully salvaged lumber from selected trees which Sharkey's Men had cut down in the previous year. Loving hands shaped, turned and carved the precious wood for use in rebuilding the town. It was evident that the new buildings would be more beautiful than their predecessors, even at this early stage of construction.  
  
Bag End's restoration continued at a much slower pace. Frodo and Freddy worked on it when Frodo was feeling up to it, and when Freddy's schedule allowed. On the 30th of January, Frodo was able to permanently relocate himself to Bag End. It only had one bedroom, the entrance hall, the kitchen, the study and a bathing room in working condition, but it was enough.  
  
February  
  
After moving into Bag End, Frodo began to take extended walks at night under the winter sky. Now that he was free from worrying about upsetting the Cottons or Sam, he used these walks to take his mind off a constant low- level pain in his left shoulder and his frequent bouts of mild depression and insomnia.  
  
Occasionally he wandered by the physician's home. He didn't quite know why he went there, but more than once he found his footsteps leading to her door. Most times he hesitated at the doorway, then went on his way without entering. This night he softly knocked at the door. Iris answered the door dressed in a dark blue robe pulled over her sleeping flannels and carrying a candle.  
  
"Frodo. Come in, please. Let's get you out of the cold. Come in!" she ushered him into her combination bedroom and physician's office.  
  
"Thank you very much," Frodo whispered, removing his snow-dusted cloak and sitting on the smaller second bed in the room. Iris noted that he was favoring his left shoulder again.  
  
She closed the door to give them some privacy. She suspected something was wrong. It was long after normal hours and the snow was falling in fat wet flakes. "He must be in a lot of pain for him to come out in this weather at this hour of the night," she thought.  
  
"Now what can I do for you?" she said, noting the pinched look around his eyes. "Are you in pain?" she asked softly, pushing his damp curls away from his forehead. She placed the back of her fingers against his soft cheek. He was definitely running a fever.  
  
Frodo was looking at the floor. He seemed reluctant to speak, gnawing at the inside of his lip rather than risk telling her his secret. But that was why he was here, wasn't it? "Should we tell her?" the voices asked inside his head. "Can we trust her? Will she tell Sam?"  
  
Iris noticed him masking some sort of pain and evidently debating on whether to talk with her or not. It was a delicate situation. If she said anything she might break the fragile trust he was placing in her through his act of coming over. She said nothing, resting her hands in her lap, remaining passive and detached, letting Frodo take the next action.  
  
"Iris?" he finally spoke. It was a whisper of despair. "Iris, I think I am loosing my mind."  
  
She maintained her hands in her lap, not wanting to disturb her patient in any way. "What makes you say that, Frodo?"  
  
"I can not stop thinking about It. It haunts me still. I thought when It was destroyed that would be the end of It and I would be left in peace. But I still dream of It and hear It. Only lately I am having trouble knowing the difference between the dreams and waking." He finally looked up at her, shame and confusion written across his pale brow.  
  
"Frodo," Iris said as she brought her hand back up to gently caress his cheek, "you are not loosing your mind. You have a fever and you might be having a hallucination brought on by the fever. I can do something for your fever right now, if you'll let me. May I?"  
  
Her voice was soothing and non-judgmental. "I like her. I can trust her," he thought. "We don't. She lies," another voice in his head angrily countered.  
  
"Yes," Frodo whispered. He suddenly grabbed her hand. "Please don't tell Sam about this. Don't tell anyone I was here! I don't want them to know. Please?"  
  
"All sessions between a physician and her patient are strictly confidential, Frodo," Iris replied, patting his hand. "I won't tell anyone you were here. This is only between you and I. Now let me get you some medicine. I'll be right back. Don't leave."  
  
She left the room and quickly returned with a simmering teapot and a cup. Frodo watched as she found a special mixture of herbs and put them into the pot for steeping. An astringent odor of lemons, ginger and some indefinable smell filled the room. Iris talked Frodo into taking off his coat while the tea steeped. But she was unable to get him to agree to a physician examination.  
  
"No, no," he protested. "It is nothing, really. It's nothing we can't handle."  
  
Iris noted the sudden use of the plural. "That was strange," she thought, "He's talking to someone or something in his mind. Maybe the 'It' to which he referred earlier. This has to do with his horrible experiences with the Ring that Sam told me about during their time down South. I must get him to voice his thoughts out loud somehow."  
  
"Frodo?" she said, straining the medicinal tea into the cup, "please drink all of this. I know it doesn't taste very good, but it will help reduce your fever and allow you to sleep."  
  
He took the proffered cup, looked at her suspiciously, then closed his eyes. After a moment's internal debate, he downed the full cup in one gulp.  
  
"What now?" he innocently asked.  
  
Iris almost cried at the expression on his face at that moment. His eyes pleaded for help, but his unconscious mind would not allow himself to voice it. The corners of his mouth twitched. Something terrible had happened to him which he was unable to articulate.  
  
Iris took the tea cup from his hands. "We have to wait awhile for the medicine to take effect. Why don't you get comfortable and lay down on the patient's bed here. I apologize for the chilliness in the room. Get under the covers while I build up the fire." She helped him into the extra bed and pulled the comforter up to his chin before tending to the fire.  
  
Frodo lay in the bed, trying to relax, but unable to stop a shiver. He felt uneasy being in a strange bed in the physician's room. Yet, at the same time, one part of him was completely willing to trust her. The debate continued in his head. "Why did you drink that? We don't know what's in it. Maybe she just poisoned you. Leave me alone. She's just helping, that's all. She said she wouldn't tell."  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
His thoughts were disturbed. He suddenly realized he was drifting into sleep. He couldn't help himself. Frodo opened his eyes reluctantly. He was finally warm – warmer than he had been the entire month it seemed. Warm like…like… He couldn't remember. What was warm? He couldn't remember warm. Part of him didn't want to talk to the physician, but another part desperately needed to. The need overcame his reluctance.  
  
"Um….yes?" His own voice sounded very far away and small to him. It was as if he were a passive on-looker to the scene unfolding. He closed his eyes.  
  
"Who is with you in your mind, Frodo?" the lady's voice softly purred. "Who is 'we'?"  
  
"The Ring," he heard himself reply as from underwater. "Precious is here. Precious never left us. We carry its shadow still." 


	14. Walkabout

Chapter Rating: PG (mental anguish)  
  
Chapter title: Walkabout  
  
February S.R. 1420  
  
Iris had suggested to Frodo that he could help arrange his thoughts on the Ring by completing Bilbo's Red Book of Westmarsh. Frodo had promised Bilbo he would do that anyway. He had been working all day on organizing Bilbo's notes concerning the War of the Ring and the Return of the King. Papers, maps and snatches of notes were stacked in piles all over the desk. But he was actually avoiding doing any writing on the book. Procrastination was the real order of the day.  
  
Frodo had been embarrassed to wake up in the physicians spare bed after his episode. He couldn't remember what he had said or done that day. Iris had assured him that even thought he had a fever, he had not lost control of himself. But he was certain she now knew something.  
  
He must have talked about the Ring, or (worse) about the voice which occasionally whispered dreadful things to him. This would not do. He didn't want to confront his memories. Perhaps if he ignored them, they would eventually go away. Or perhaps he could starve the voice into submission. He had to find some way of controlling it so that it did not control him.  
  
"Perhaps Iris could help," he thought.  
  
"Of course she can't help, stupid hobbit," the voice sneered. "She wasn't there. She doesn't know. Only Sam was there with you, and he didn't see. No one can help. Only I can bring you release. Claim me. Do as I say and you will be free."  
  
"No!" Frodo silently cried in desperation, clutching his aching head. "Back! I have work to do. Leave me!"  
  
It was a crisp, frosty Friday winter afternoon when Frodo heard the front door bells jingling. Another blazing fire was going in the study's fireplace. Rosie was in the pantry, cleaning it out and getting it ready for tomorrow's painting. Sam was installing a new support in one of the side hallway bedrooms. Frodo put down his pen and papers and went to answer the door.  
  
Iris stood there. She was wearing a heavy grey traveling cloak and a light backpack, and had a walking stick in hand.  
  
"Iris, please come it," said Frodo. "What a pleasant surprise. May I take your cloak?" One part of him was pleased to see her. Another, darker part was extremely annoyed.  
  
"Thank you Frodo," said Iris, "but I think I'll keep them on. I was wondering if you would care to take a walk with me this afternoon? I really don't know this part of the Shire well, and I'm needing to familiarize myself with where everyone lives. When I get a call to come out to someone's house or farm, I need to know where it is and the quickest way to reach it. I know you've lived here all your life, and have done a bit of wandering about. So I was wondering if you would show me around the Hobbiton area? I do hope I've caught you at a good time and am not inconveniencing you."  
  
"I can not think of a better way to spend a Friday afternoon than in your lovely company walking about the Shire," said Frodo. It was also another excuse to not start on the book. Anything to get away from those memories. And the voice.  
  
"Let me get a coat and cloak and tell Rosie our plans. I'll be right back." He disappeared into the kitchen briefly, then came back with a well- worn greyish-green traveling cloak over his coat. He fastened it with a green Elvish broach, and lead Iris back to the front door, grabbing a walking stick along from the stand in the hallway. "Ready. Where would you like to go?"  
  
"Let's start with Bag Shot Row going out of town," she said. They started down the newly resurfaced road. As they passed each hobbit hole along the way, Frodo described for her the family who lived there, who they were related to, and other background information about the family's history. Occasionally Iris asked a question, but she was mostly passive, letting Frodo talk freely.  
  
It felt good to be out walking in the crisp afternoon air. Frodo loved walking. It was one of the few physical activities which didn't hurt. And walking took his mind off other, messier thoughts. He usually ended up with a cold throbbing ache in his left shoulder after the walk, but that pain was manageable.  
  
They headed out of Hobbiton and Bag End and into the countryside. It was dotted with small, sleepy family farms and pastures. Frost covered the ground and crunched lightly underfoot. They were out walking for about two hours when the sun began to set. Thin clouds turned golden in the sunset, then quickly faded into dusk. The two hobbits decided to take a small rest at a sheltered bench set into a stone pasture fence. They shared the water and bread Iris had thoughtfully packed.  
  
Frodo had been staring at the sunset. He suddenly looked at her intently. "Iris?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What is the real reason you invited me out on this little hike?" he asked.  
  
There was something in his voice which warned her to tell the complete truth. She could tell he didn't trust her yet.  
  
"You are right," she replied, keeping her voice even-pitched and neutral. "There's more than one reason why I wanted to get you out of Bag End today. Partially because I do need to learn the geography around here. But mostly because of you. You see, part of my being a physician is to care for all aspects of my patients, not just their physical complaints.  
  
Frodo, you've stopped most social interactions. You keep to yourself almost all of the time now that you've moved into Bag End. You're not eating enough. Something is really bothering you. Something you're not willing to tell anyone. Not even Sam, your best friend.  
  
When you came over the other night, you talked about the Ring in your fever. I know you are suffering from its effects. You must have had many horrible experiences during the War. The only way I know to treat injuries of the mind is to get the patient to talk about what's bothering them. And I know you're not going to do so with Rosie and Sam around. I thought you might feel more comfortable outside, walking to a safe, secluded site from your past, such as these little lanes and dales. And I thought you might be more comfortable confiding in me, as I am a neutral party to the matters."  
  
Frodo didn't answer for a long time. He stared off into the deepening gloaming.  
  
"Miss Proudfoot," he finally replied, "you are a very cleaver hobbit. But I am not sure I am ready to talk about things that happened. You are right about some things though. Many times I do not want to remember. There are things I actually cannot remember, which I know happened. Sometimes when I see Sam I am suddenly reminded of things which we did or situations we found ourselves in. Painful things. And I do not want to bring them up again. Especially not to him. He seems to be adjusting to life in the Shire well. I do believe he was meant to be whole and live a peaceful, contented life. He and Rosie are so happy together. I do not think I shall ever find that peace and quietness, but I am glad he has and I do not want to ruin that for him or for Rose."  
  
Iris reached out and took his maimed hand in hers. He initially resisted her touch, then gave way.  
  
"You have been asking me to help you, Frodo. Maybe not out loud in words, but in your actions. You and Sam have been through more than any of us will ever know. But at some time you've got to start talking about what happened to you. If you don't, it will act like an infection, poisoning your mind and heart until life becomes unbearable. Or until you do something which endangers yourself or those you love. And Sam will notice. Please consider talking to me about what happened. Just the simple act of talking about them starts the healing."  
  
Frodo gazed out over the frozen pastures and lanes. He could not bear to look at her for fear of loosing his composure. He continued to hold her hand tightly. Eventually he sighed and released his grip. "I shall consider it."  
  
"That's all I can ask of you right now," Iris said. "Come. Let's return to Bag End."  
  
They got up and began the return walk. For quite some time they walked in silence, each nursing their private thoughts. As the little lights of Bag Shot Row twinkled into view, Frodo stopped.  
  
"Iris, I have been thinking about what you are trying to do for me. It might help. But there are things so terrible that I may not have the words for them." He whispered, "I do not know how Sam and I actually survived some things. And I do not know if I can live through it all again by talking about them. I have never told this to anybody. Not even Bilbo or Lord Elrond when I was last in Rivendale. But sometimes thinking about things I did makes me believe I am there again in the flesh. Memories and reality are so close for me. So close…" His voice trailed off.  
  
"We'll take it slowly," she said. "Only what you think you can handle. Just as we walk one step at a time until we find we've reached our destination. We'll do this one step at a time. I will help you. I will stay with you through this. Make no mistake; this will be painful and it might be dangerous. But you've already taken your first step. You did it when you came to my door the other night. That took a lot of courage. Please don't stop now. May we continue our walks?"  
  
"Perhaps," he replied, gazing over the darkened landscape. "You're right in that I cannot do this at Bag End. Walking relaxes me also. Yes. Let us continue these walks."  
  
They had reached Bag End. They went in, set aside their walking sticks, packs and cloaks, and warmed themselves by the fire. Rosie heard them arrive, and brought in a pot of tea and a light supper. Afterwards Iris returned to Hobbiton while Rosie and Sam headed back to the Cotton farmhouse.  
  
Frodo went into the study. There they were – all the notes and memories mocking him; taunting him. He closed the door to the study, grabbed his cloak, and vanished once more into the night. 


	15. O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!

Disclaimer: *This chapter briefly quotes J.R.R. Tolkien poetry, LOTR, chapter titled "Three is Company" and chapter titled "Many Meetings." No disrespect is intended.  
  
Chapter Rating: PG (disturbing thoughts)  
  
Chapter title: O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!  
  
The Next Week  
  
Iris made it a point to call on Frodo at Bag End Friday afternoon at 2:00. They wandered along paths and farms without saying much. Frodo continued to tell her about the families living in the homes they passed, but he did not talk about his own history. Iris did not press the matter. She was content that he had agreed to continue their walks. It was an important step for him to even acknowledge that he needed the help. They did the same the next week. Again, Frodo talked solely about other people, not himself.  
  
One snowy evening in February Frodo surprised Iris by calling on her at her house after supper. He was dressed for an extended walk, wearing his worn traveling cloak and carrying his walking stick. The night sky was thick with snow clouds and a few early flakes clung to his hood.  
  
"Hello Iris," he smiled as she answered his knock at the door. "Care to go on a night walk with me?" His eyes were bright blue without their customary shadowing of pain. Something was definitely up.  
  
Iris grabbed her cloak and walking stick and headed out into the hoary night air with him. She sensed he was ready to start talking about himself now. Tonight was the night. She had to prepare herself for anything.  
  
Frodo took Iris down past Bywater and the newly rebuilt Mill. They hiked along country paths and through fallow fields for a couple of hours as the snow finished falling and the waning moon appeared in the midnight sky. They stopped and sat under the shelter of one of the remaining old oak trees near a little brook that was half frozen, but still gurgling with running water. After a few minutes, Frodo started talking quietly, looking off into a distant stand of trees.  
  
He told her of the time when he and Sam and Pippin spent the night with the Elves who were passing through the Shire on their way to the Grey Havens. It was at the beginning of their quest, even before they had left the Shire. This was the first time Frodo had ever talked to anyone in the Shire about any of his doings in the War of the Ring. Iris listened quietly, not wanting to disturb the flow of his memory.  
  
As Frodo finished his tale he began to quietly sing almost under his breath.  
  
*Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!  
  
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!  
  
O Light to us that wander here  
  
Amid the world of woven trees!  
  
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!  
  
We still remember, we who dwell  
  
In this far land beneath the trees,  
  
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.*  
  
He stopped his singing, slowly bowing his head to his chest, deep in thought. Suddenly he heard an answering voice singing:  
  
*A Elbereth Gilthoniel,  
  
Silivren penna miriel  
  
O menel aglar elenath!*  
  
Frodo was stunned. It was Iris singing. Not only singing, but singing in Sindarin. Many hobbits knew how to read and write, but few bothered learning the Elvish languages.  
  
"How do you come to know that?" he asked.  
  
"I studied some Sindarin as part of my medical training. It was mostly words for herbs and treatments and such as are useful in medicines and healing," she confessed. "But then I sought out other writings in the Elvish language. I love the sound of them. I didn't find many Elvish writings in the medical library at Micheldelving, but that's where I learned all of what I know. I memorized some bits of poems I found in the Mathom House. I understand some words, but I really don't understand all of what I just sang."  
  
Frodo translated for her, and then sang a few more lines of the lay.  
  
As quiet returned they heard other fair voices continuing the song. A small group of Elves were on their way West to the Grey Havens at that very moment. They would have passed by without being noticed, except they heard the singing. The golden-haired slender Elves stopped to acknowledge the two hobbits. One by one, the Elves bowed deeply to Frodo, and sang to him their blessings as the honored Ringbearer.  
  
Iris had never seen an Elf before, and was abashed at their beauty and gracefulness. She tried to hide her plain hobbit features by blending in with the oaken trunk. When she looked at Frodo, he seemed to be glowing with some of the same inner radiant beauty as the Elves.  
  
"Surely it is only the moon glow on his pale features and dark hair," she thought.  
  
The leader of the travelers, a stately male with a silver band about his brow, asked if Frodo was joining their journey into the Blessed Realm of the West. The Lord Elrond had indicated that should the Ringbearer desire it, he was to be escorted to the Grey Havens with the greatest of honor.  
  
Frodo gravely answered, "Now is not my time. But the blessings of Elbereth Gilthoniel be with you on your journey."  
  
The Elves passed into shadow and continued on their way, turning one last time and raising their hands high overhead in a final gesture of peace and blessing before disappearing into the night.  
  
Iris came out of her awestruck trance. "Frodo, why did the Elves called you Blessed?"  
  
"Perhaps another time I will explain, but not right now," he said. The moment had passed, and he was locked away in his own cold thoughts again.  
  
Iris replied, "I am patient." They walked hand in hand in silence back to Bag End. The moon was near setting and it was well past mid-night.  
  
At Bag End Frodo invited Iris inside to warm up and share some tea. They removed their soaked cloaks and hung them up to dry in the hallway. Iris noticed Frodo's grimace as he struggled to remove the left lacing from his backpack. She helped undo the offending brace without a word, trusting Frodo to volunteer information in his own time. She was patient, as she had said.  
  
She couldn't help but wonder at him as he built up the fire in the great fireplace in Bilbo's old study. Who exactly was Frodo Baggins? Why do the Elves honor him when his own people do not? Frodo went into the kitchen to ready some tea. Iris took a careful look around the room, trying to gather information which would help her unravel this mystery called Frodo.  
  
Stacks of papers lined the old creaky writing table. Quite a few books lay in piles on the floor and around the table. Scrolls and maps were scattered about on a bookshelf. Most of the writing was in a thin, wavy script – evidently these were Bilbo's notes. On the table was a stack of blank paper, pen, inkwell and blotter. It didn't look like they had been touched in many weeks. A light film of dust covered the parchment.  
  
"So," she thought, "he isn't writing down his memories like I asked him to."  
  
Frodo returned with the tea. They stood in front of the fireplace, sipping the wonderfully fragrant mint tea. Frodo stared into the fire. His mind seemed to be far, far away.  
  
He remembered another fire in this same fireplace. One where Gandalf cast the Ring into the midst of the flames to reveal its secret writing. It seemed so long ago. Or perhaps it was beginning to happen all over again. The longing to reach into his vest pocket and take out the non-existent Ring momentarily overwhelmed him. He sighed and a single tear rolled down his cheek. It was gone forever. But no, It was with him always. The fire was always with him as well.  
  
Iris gently laid her hand on Frodo's shoulder and he suddenly came back into the present. He turned around and looked deeply into her green eyes. What would be there? Pity. He hoped not. A voice in his head whispered, "You do not deserve pity. Remember what you did."  
  
She was not afraid of him. Her eyes could not lie. Nor could Frodo see any of the shameful pity in her face. Only concern and something else. Something deeper. Something he remembered seeing in Sam's eyes before. Love? He couldn't remember love. He could only remember fire.  
  
"You don't deserve love," the harsh voice whispered in his mind. "You know what you deserve. Do it and end this charade. This farce. You are evil. You know what you have to do to evil. You did it once. Do it again."  
  
"No!" another voice answered. "I do not choose to do this thing. I shall stay. I reject the fire. I will feel again."  
  
"Then feel the pain," the first voice hissed. His missing ring finger suddenly ached.  
  
Frodo placed his teacup onto the mantle, mastering his shaking hand. Iris placed her tea cup onto a nearby table. He hesitantly stepped into her open and inviting arms.  
  
They remained locked in a hug for a long time. As they separated, Iris reached her hand up to his jaw line, bringing his mouth to hers for a gentle kiss.  
  
Something was different. Frodo felt as if he could momentarily set aside his hurts and weariness, and just be a simple hobbit in the arms of someone who cared for him.  
  
"A healer," he thought, "Iris is a healer for me." Or perhaps it is love itself that makes hurt and weariness bearable. Could he even remember how to love anymore? How could he bring himself to love anyone else when he could not love himself?  
  
Iris asked to be escorted home, as it was now very late. They donned their cloaks again and walked in silence hand-in-hand back to her place. As she stood on the stoop of the converted shed, she hugged him another time. Iris went inside without a word.  
  
Frodo headed back out into the night, aiming for the old oak tree again. He stayed there contemplating the various voices in his head until the moon and stars were a memory of the dawn. He returned to his bedroom at Bag End and slept soundly for the first time in many months. 


	16. Anniversary

Chapter rating: PG (mild language, somewhat gruesome medical situations)  
  
Chapter title: Anniversary  
  
March S.R. 1420  
  
The one social engagement Frodo regularly attended during the winter months was the Saturday evening family gatherings at Farmer Cotton's house. Sam and the Cotton family so enjoyed hearing the old tales and stories about the Elves, Frodo didn't have the heart to deny them their pleasure. That, and Sam kept nagging him to get out more. So every Saturday Frodo joined the Cottons for dinner, tall tales, and an overnight stay. They kept his guest room ready at all times.  
  
No one particularly noticed the date that Saturday evening. It was the 12th of March. Sam was away on one of his frequent trips around the Shire. The day had been bitterly cold. A fell North wind had been blowing all day, leaving a scum of ice on the recently-thawed roads. But the farmhouse was warm and cozy. After Frodo recounted the tale of Luthien and Beren One- Hand everyone went off to sleep.  
  
Frodo felt a bit uncomfortable all evening despite the roaring fire and the little bit of warmed brandy wine being passed around the family that night. He couldn't seem to get warm no matter how many comforters on the bed, nor how many logs he placed in the little fireplace. His mind was racing with unpleasant memories of Weathertop as he tossed and turned in bed. Sometime after midnight he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.  
  
"Mister Baggins?" Tom Cotton called and knocked on the guest bedroom door the next morning. "Master Frodo? Are you coming to second breakfast or no?" There was no answer. Tom Cotton opened the door a crack just to make sure Frodo was there. The room was uncomfortably warm. He heard a soft moaning coming from the piled up comforters.  
  
"Mister Baggins, sir?" Tom ventured inside the room. He found Frodo in bed, unable to recognize Tom, and sweating profusely. He was running a high fever.  
  
"Lily!" Tom called to his wife. "Lily! Come quickly. There's something wrong with Master Frodo! He won't answer to me. I don't think he rightly knows where he is neither."  
  
His wife came running into the bedroom. "Oh dear, Master Frodo? Tom, send Nibs to run for the healer. I'll stay here with the poor dear. You and the lads go on back to work. But tell Nibs to hurry."  
  
Nibs ran into Hobbiton and found Iris Proudfoot in her office. Nibs removed his hat and hurriedly stammered, "Doctor Proudfoot, Mum? Sorry to bother you Mum, but you see, it's Master Baggins. He's in a bad way over at our house. Would you please come see to him? Me dad says to come right away."  
  
"Why Nibs Cotton! Come in! Sit down and tell me slowly what's wrong with Mister Frodo."  
  
"Well Mum, me dad says Master Baggins is running a temperature and don't rightly know where he is or who's talkin' to 'im. He didn't come for breakfast, nor for second breakfast neither. Will you please come over quick?"  
  
"Yes, certainly. Let me gather a few things into my bag first, then we'll be off." Iris quickly gathered together some of the precious medicinal herbs and her medical bag. She wrote a note explaining that she was at Master Cotton's farmhouse until further notice and could be reached there in case of emergency. She and Nibs donned their cloaks. As they headed out the door, she stopped and attached the note to the front of the door. "Alright Nibs, lead the way."  
  
They quickly arrived at Farmer Cotton's house. Lily Cotton greeted them as they entered the door.  
  
"Oh Doctor," said Mrs. Cotton, "Thank you for coming. Here, let me take your cloak. I don't know what's wrong with Master Frodo, but he's in a bad sort of way. I'll take you to him. Nibs, stay here in case the doctor needs something."  
  
"Thank you Mrs. Cotton," said Iris. "Let's go see Mister Frodo." Mrs. Cotton lead her back into Frodo's room. He was lying on the bed, his eyes tightly closed and face drawn up in pain. He had kicked a large pile of comforters onto the floor in his thrashings. His breathing was rapid and evidently painful. His greying curls clung to his forehead in a feverish sweat.  
  
"Frodo?" Iris asked, stroking the damp curls. No response. "Frodo? Ah well..." Iris set down her bag on a dresser. The room had a fireplace with a small fire going, even thought it was already warm.  
  
"He's been like that all morning," Lily said. "He won't answer nor wake up for nothin'."  
  
"Alright then. Would you please start some water on to boil? I'm going to need some clean towels as well. And start up the kettle. I'll have you brew some medicinal tea in a short while. I'll need a basin with the hot water and towels first. Oh, and some brandy. Thank you." Lily started out of the room.  
  
"Oh, and please have Nibs bring in some more firewood. I'm going to give Mister Frodo an examination now, so please give us some privacy. Knock on the door and I'll tell you if it's appropriate to come in. Thank you again." Lily left the room.  
  
Iris opened her bag and walked over to the bed. Frodo was murmuring in his delirium and was clutching the bed sheets with his right hand. His left arm was hidden behind the bedclothes. Iris touched the back of her hand to his pale face. It was surprisingly cool, even though he was obviously feverish. The left side of his face and neck were much more cold than his right side.  
  
There was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," she replied.  
  
It was Nibs with one arm loaded with wood for the fire and a flask of brandy in the other hand. He looked with concern at Frodo lying in bed.  
  
"Is he going to be alright, Mam?"  
  
"We shall see. Thank you Nibs. Just set it all down." Nibs left the room, gently pulling the door shut.  
  
Iris went to her bag and pulled out several bundles of herbs. There was another soft knock at the door. This time it was Lily Cotton, and she was holding a large ewer and basin of steaming water. Several clean towels were draped over her arm.  
  
"Thank you. Just put them down over on the little table."  
  
"Is there anything else you'll be needing?" asked Mrs. Cotton.  
  
Iris handed Mrs. Cotton a pouch with dried herbs. "Please take two tablespoons of this herb mixture and steep them into a very strong tea. It's all right to let them steep until the water is cold. Don't throw away the leavings. I'll call for the tea when I am ready. Thank you."  
  
Mrs. Cotton left the room with the herb pouch and closed the door. Iris washed her hands. "Now Frodo, what in the name of Middle Earth is wrong with you? Perhaps I'll finally get an answer to that question. You should have come to me sooner. Damn Baggins pride."  
  
She lowered the bed sheets and unbuttoned his top. There was a dark line going down the left side of his neck towards his left shoulder. As Iris unbuttoned the shirt further, Frodo's wound was revealed. It was a mass of old healed white scar tissue, some evidently the initial wound and other scars bearing the signature of later surgery. But underneath the mass a fine network of dark purple lines radiated from the wound. Some ascended the line of his neck. Some descended into his left arm. The majority of them snaked towards his heart. A few disappeared across his shoulder, leading towards his back. Iris ran her hand across his chest and left shoulder, feeling the coldness increasing the closer she came to the source. As her hand touched the wound, Frodo stirred and groaned.  
  
"Frodo? Frodo? Come on now. I've got to get your shirt off so I can finish this exam. Frodo? Come on. Sit up for me."  
  
Iris sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned over Frodo and gently moved her right arm under his shoulder; her left arm under his head. She slowly rocked him up into a sitting position, his head resting on her left shoulder. Frodo struggled towards consciousness. His breathing become more rapid as Iris tried to undress him.  
  
"Gandalf?" he whispered in confusion, his eyes tightly shut.  
  
"Nope. Wrong gender, wrong race, wrong age, wrong size, no beard. Not Gandalf, though I could use his help right now. It's Iris. Iris Proudfoot." Iris succeeded in removing his shirt.  
  
Frodo struggled feebly with his right hand and cried out in pain, "Ah! Not again. No! You shall not have It or me. Return to Mordor!"  
  
"Thank you, but I think I'll stay here with you," she murmured. He was evidently delirious with the fever. "He must be talking about the Ring, but who is he talking to?" she wondered.  
  
Iris traced the purple lines across his left shoulder and saw that they joined another network of purple lines radiating from a different scar at the base of his neck. However this scar was not cold, but warm to the touch. She also noticed a few old whip marks across his back. Frodo's left arm hung useless at his side, but his eyes were now open. Iris lowered him back down on the bed.  
  
"Frodo. Look at me. It's Iris. Do you know who I am?"  
  
Frodo stared at her in confusion. "Where is Gandalf? Where is Bilbo? Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Iris. You are in the Shire at Farmer Cotton's house. You are ill and have a fever. I'm trying to help you. What do you mean, 'Not again'? Have you been ill like this before?"  
  
Frodo blinked and tried to concentrate on her face. She seemed familiar somehow.  
  
"The Shire?" he asked suddenly. "No! Not the Shire!" He began to struggle to get out of bed. He looked wildly around the room. "I have to get to Rivendale. They are after me."  
  
Iris held him back. "It's all right. I will protect you. You are safe here. Who is after you?"  
  
"The Black Riders. The Pale King. Ah! Look out!" he panted and struggled in her arms. Suddenly he stopped thrashing about and sank into the pillows. He glanced around the room.  
  
"But wait. This is not Rivendale. Where am I?" He was becoming more confused and agitated.  
  
Iris placed her hand on his wounded shoulder. It was very cold and there was a raised lump under the scar. "Calm down. Shush. You are at Farmer Cotton's house in the Shire. You've lived here and at Bag End since November. I'm Iris Proudfoot, the new healer. Do you remember coming back to the Shire?"  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and sighed.  
  
"Frodo? Talk to me. Do you recognize me now?" She stroked his wet tangled hair away from his feverish brow.  
  
Frodo slowly became aware and finally nodded his head. He seemed to have a slight mist clouding his eyes. He stared at her face and whispered, "Iris, you look like an Elf. You have an aura like they do."  
  
Iris smiled at him and gently asked, "And what color is my aura?"  
  
"The most lovely green. It reminds me of the mallorn trees of Lothlorien." He sighed, closed his eyes and shivered.  
  
"Frodo," Iris said, "You must tell me what is happening to you if I am to try to help you." She unstoppered the brandy, drizzled some onto a clean cloth, and began rubbing his neck and forehead with the cooling liquid.  
  
Frodo looked at her again and turned his head away with embarrassment. He whispered, "Please, please don't tell anyone about this. Especially not Sam or Rosie." Iris gently stroked his hair as she continued his brandy rub, comforting him as one comforts a little child who is afraid of the dark.  
  
"I promise that whatever is said in this room will always remain strictly between you and I. I will not tell Sam. I will not tell Rosie or Nibs or the Cottons. Now please…what is happening to you?" Frodo turned back towards her. He struggled to say the words while fighting the pain and sorrow.  
  
"We were attacked more than a year ago while on a journey to Rivendale," he whispered. "I was stabbed. The blade was poisoned. It took us many days to reach Rivendale. The Elves were able to heal my wound, but by then the poison had worked its way into my blood. The Lord Elrond and Gandalf told me I would never be completely healed from this wound. I took ill again last October, but it was not as bad then as now. Iris, I am reliving the nightmare."  
  
He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. Iris gently wiped the tear from his face.  
  
"Frodo, when did the pain return?"  
  
"It has been with me off and on since that time in October. But it became much worse sometime last night. I had the nightmare again and woke up with this terrible pain. I thought I could hide it from everyone, but now I am found out. Oh please, Iris, do not let them know. I do not want my private suffering to become public knowledge."  
  
"I promise to not tell anyone. But let's see if there is anything I can do to help you right now. Frodo, the scar on your shoulder has a lump under it. Is this something new?"  
  
"Yes, I think so," he whispered.  
  
Iris examined the wound again. There definitely was a lump under the scar tissue. It was the coldest spot on his body. She lightly pressed around the scar. "Does that hurt you?"  
  
"No. I feel nothing on my left side and arm now. It's just like when I was first wounded. I have no feeling there."  
  
Iris pressed even harder into the scarred area. Nothing. Frodo truly exhibited no feeling in that area. Nor could he move his left hand.  
  
"Frodo, I believe you have an infection under the scar and that infection is causing your fever and chills. I need to open up the wound and release the infection. It involves some surgery. Will you let me do this?"  
  
He nodded his assent as he closed his eyes and struggled to breathe through the pain. Iris stood and brought the covers back up to his chin. "I will be right back."  
  
She went out of the room and into the kitchen where Lily was making bread.  
  
"Oh Doctor, how is Master Frodo doing? I do hope he will be right as rain."  
  
"He has an infection which is causing a fever and delirium. He's awake and talking now, but I need to drain the infection. Are you at all squeamish at the sight of blood?"  
  
"No, Mam," the sturdy hobbitess replied, setting aside the dough and wiping her hands on her apron, then setting the apron aside. She had seen her share of farm accidents and had even mended a few gory ones in her day.  
  
"Good. I'll need you to assist a little bit of surgery. I need a large metal bucket, and I'm going to need that tea I asked you to brew." Mrs. Cotton handed Iris a teapot with the medicinal tea and a cup and saucer. She then went into a pantry, returning with a large metal bucket with a hoop.  
  
"Will this do?" asked Mrs. Cotton.  
  
"That's perfect. One thing more. Mister Baggins is rather adamant that no one else know of his illness. I must ask you to keep anything you see or hear inside his room to be held under strictest confidence. Do not even talk about it with your husband or children. Do you understand this restriction?"  
  
"Yes, Mam," Lily replied. "I'll not say a word to anyone."  
  
"Good. Then let's go. I need to get this done quickly."  
  
Iris and Lily returned to Frodo's room, bringing clean towels to the bed. Iris went over to Frodo.  
  
"I have to have an assistant for this Frodo," she whispered to him. He still had his eyes closed and was shaking with the chills. "I've asked Mistress Cotton to assist. She's agreed to keep it our secret." He nodded his consent without opening his eyes.  
  
As Lily washed her hands Iris removed the one remaining comforter, turned down the bed sheet and arranged the towels around the wound and under Frodo's left shoulder and arm. She sprinkled some herbs into the dish of warm water and bathed his shoulder with the infusion. The room was quite warm and still. Only the sound of the crackling logs burning in the fireplace was heard. Iris retrieved a scalpel, irrigator, needle and thread and other instruments from her bag, washed them, and laid them out on a towel on the bed. Iris positioned Lily so that she was on the other side of the bed, holding Frodo down to keep him from moving.  
  
"Frodo," Iris said, "keep very still. If you feel any additional pain, let me know and I'll stop."  
  
Frodo sighed and relaxed into stillness. Iris began the surgery by cutting into the scar tissue. There was surprisingly little blood. Frodo did not stir or cry out, but his face and neck were slick with sweat. Iris sliced through the scarring, revealing a cyst which had formed under the wound. It was full of a strange dark red and yellow pus and smelled of death and foulness. Lily blanched at the sight of the strange liquid seeping out the wound.  
  
"Steady," Iris warned. "Have those extra towels ready. But hold onto him as well."  
  
As she drained the cyst, Frodo groaned. His breathing came in gasps. Lily held him down into the bed as the putrid matter spilled forth. Blood and infection stained the white cloths as he weakly struggled.  
  
As Iris flushed the gash out with the infused water and sewed the wound back together, Frodo calmed down. The towels were heavily stained and reeked. Lily put the soiled cloths into the metal bucket and headed back into the kitchen as Iris finished cleaning up.  
  
Frodo's eyes were tightly closed, but his breathing was free and steady. Iris placed her hand over the injury. It was not as cold as it had been. After rubbing some salve over the wound, she gently stroked his damp curls again.  
  
"Frodo?" she whispered.  
  
"Um?"  
  
"It's over now. Please open your eyes and look at me." Frodo turned his head towards her and opened his weary blue eyes. The cloudiness which was upon them before was gone. The angry purple lines around the wounds were also beginning to fade.  
  
"What color is my aura now?" she gently asked, moving each limp curl away from his forehead.  
  
Frodo smiled wanly, "It's still green, but I can barely see it now."  
  
"That's encouraging. I am going to give you some medicine now. It will help you sleep in a little while. Do you think you can manage to sit up?" Frodo nodded and needed some help, but he managed it. Iris poured a tablespoon of the medicinal tea into the teacup and supported Frodo as he drank it.  
  
"There. Rest now."  
  
Frodo settled back into the bed and sighed. Iris pulled the covers over him and continued to stroke his hair.  
  
"Now Frodo, you have another scar at the base of your neck. It was also showing signs of infection, or perhaps poison. What's the history of that wound? And I'll not take silence as an answer this time." Frodo turned his head away from her, once again in great mental stress. His jaw tightened and he had a difficult time speaking. Iris continued to gently stroke his hair.  
  
Finally he complied. "Yes, it is another poisoning. A sting. But I cannot bring myself to tell you that dark story. Is it sufficient to say that the two poisonings are not related?"  
  
"Yes," she replied. "That will do for now." Frodo looked back at her, and the relief on his face was clear to see.  
  
"Since you've asked a question, I think it's my turn," he said. "What prompted you to reply to my letter and come to Hobbiton? I know you had a successful practice with Mistress Weaver in the South Farthing."  
  
"Fair enough," Iris replied. "I asked a difficult question of you, so turn about is fair play. I was intrigued with your letters. They were so courteous and sincere. It was almost as if you were speaking directly to me, asking me to come to help you, and not only for Hobbiton. I had heard about the Travelers, I mean, you and Masters Brandybuck, Took and Gamgee. And this may sound silly, but I wanted to meet you personally and help out if it was possible."  
  
Frodo smiled sleepily. "Well, now you've seen me at my worst. I do hope it has not put you off of staying."  
  
Iris smiled back at him. "Nothing would drive me away, not even you, my silly hobbit. This is my home now. You have all been so good to me. But it's my turn to ask you a question. I'll keep this one simple. What's your favorite food?"  
  
Frodo struggled to keep his eyes open. "My Uncle Bilbo makes the most wonderful mushroom stew with little young spring onions in it." He sounded wistful and slightly melancholy.  
  
"Don't fight the medicine," she instructed. "Go ahead and close your eyes."  
  
Frodo blinked a few more times, then shut his eyes and relaxed. "Will you stay with me for awhile?" It was the voice of a young child, asking for comfort in the dark night after a nightmare.  
  
"I'll stay for awhile. Then I'll be with Mrs. Cotton in the kitchen. I'll come back to wake you in an hour or so." He sighed and was asleep almost immediately. Iris continued to stroke his hair for about ten minutes – until she was certain he was deeply asleep, then finished cleaning and putting away her tools and medicines. She placed another log on the fire before going back to the kitchen.  
  
"Mrs. Cotton," Iris asked, "Would you please see that those infected cloths are burned? And be careful handling them. Thank you for your assistance."  
  
"Why Mistress Proudfoot, I'm glad I could help in any way. Poor dear was very sick, wasn't he?"  
  
"Very ill, but I think he will recover quickly now that the infection has been removed," Iris said. "The fever has abated. I gave him a strong sedative and he's sleeping right now. I shall need to stay here awhile and check up on him every now and again."  
  
Lily gestured to the large family table. "Please sit down. I'll bring you a nice tea and something to eat. Now, how long before you go look in on him again?"  
  
"In about an hour I'll go wake him up. He will need to have a bath at that time. Would you change out the bed clothes while I help him bathe?"  
  
"Certainly, my dear. Will I need to burn them too?" the hobbitess replied as she set down the tea service. Lily set herself down at the table and joined Iris in a cup of strong mint tea.  
  
"No. I don't think they received any of the infectious matter. Just wash them in boiling water and good, strong lye soap."  
  
Lily thoughtfully sipped her tea. "I'm surprised to hear you say he'll be well enough to take a bath shortly."  
  
Iris thought a minute, then replied, "He will be a bit groggy from the medicine, but he might be feeling well enough after the bath so that he can come join the family for dinner. In cases such as these, once the cyst is drained the patient makes a remarkably rapid recovery. Just remember that Mister Frodo does not want any fuss made over his illness.  
  
On a change of subject… I want to congratulate you and Master Cotton on Rosie's engagement. How wonderful for the two of them! You're getting yourself a fine son-in-law."  
  
"Oh, thank you 'mum. My Rosie, I'm so proud of her. I always knew Sam was the finest lad in the Shire, and Rosie's been sweet on him for years. Sam and Rosie are so happy, even though he's so busy now, what with him in charge of the replanting of the Shire and all. He's the best gardener the Shire's ever had, or will ever have, mark my words."  
  
"He and Mister Frodo are close friends, aren't they?" inquired Iris.  
  
"They're the closest. Sam thinks the world of young Mister Baggins. He says Mister Baggins is the smartest and best hobbit that ever was. But I'm right partial to Sam. Did you know Sam saved Mister Baggins's life during their travels? He doesn't like to talk too much about what they was doing, but he did tell my Rosie how he saved Mister Baggins's life while they was on a secret mission. It was when young Mister Baggins lost his finger. Did you know that it was bit off?"  
  
"Bit off?" asked the astonished Iris. "I always assumed he lost it in an accident, or maybe in a battle during the War. What bit it off?"  
  
"It weren't exactly a 'what' as it were a 'who'" said Mrs. Cotton, sipping her tea. "Sam and young Mister Baggins was on this secret mission to throw this magic ring back into a fire on this mountain way south. They was being stalked by this wicked creature named Gollum. Rosie says Sam calls him the Stinker and Master Frodo calls him Smeagol or some strange name. Anyways, this Gollum betrayed Sam and Mister Baggins, and followed 'em up this mountain. Then this Gollum goes and hits Sam with a rock right up side the head! When Sam came to, Gollum had attacked Mister Baggins. They was in a fight up on this mountain by the fire and all. That Gollum was after the ring Mister Baggins was wearing. Bit clean through the finger, bone and everything in order to get it too! Well, Rosie says Sam ended up rescuing Mister Baggins from off that mountain, after this Gollum tripped and fell to his death. Well deserved too, if you asks me. Took the ring and finger and all with 'em into the fire too.  
  
Mister Baggins gave up on living then, but our Sammie carried him off that mountain and got them rescued by some Men from Gondor. I know it was a real close thing. They was almost killed up on that mountain by that Gollum creature. And they had run out of food and water too. But anyway, that's how young Mister Baggins lost his finger."  
  
"My goodness!" exclaimed Iris. "No wonder he don't care to talk much about it. It must have been terrible! I guess we all owe Sam and Frodo, and Meriodoc and Pippin quite a debt of gratitude. The least we can do is honor their wishes for privacy."  
  
The two chattered on for quite awhile. When Iris realized her tea had gone stone cold, she said, "Looks like it's time for me to go wake up Mister Frodo. Would you please see to the water for his bath? Thank you so much. I'll come back and get you after he's gone off for his bath. Then we can change the sheets."  
  
Iris went back into Frodo's room. He was still asleep, but he had moved his left hand outside the covers. Iris was relieved that he was using his left arm so soon after the surgery. He looked very peaceful and innocent sleeping.  
  
She sat down on the edge of the bed. Iris gently whispered, "Frodo? Time to wake up."  
  
He sighed in his sleep. Iris took his left hand in hers. It was no longer cold and lifeless, but warm. "Frodo. Time to wake up."  
  
He took a deep breath and stirred. His eyes were still closed. "I was dreaming," she thought he mumbled.  
  
"What were you dreaming?"  
  
"I was walking in the golden woods of Lothlorien. It was summer and warm and all gold and green and very still and quiet. The mallorn trees were in bloom. The Elves were gone, but the woods were still full of their presence. Then I heard someone calling. Was it you? Or maybe it was Arwen. I woke up and it was you."  
  
"Sorry to take you away from such a lovely dream. Perhaps you'll dream of it again. But now it's time for you to get up. How are your arm and shoulder feeling?"  
  
He was still very sleepy. "Oh, um, fine I guess. No pain anymore. And I'm not so cold." He was trying to get his eyes opened, blinking in the firelight.  
  
"How about a nice warm bath and some dinner then? Mrs. Cotton's prepared you a bath."  
  
"Sounds 'sonderful, but I don't think I want to face having dinner with the Cottons tonight." He was mostly conscious now. "What will they think of my behavior today? Frankly, Iris, I'm embarrassed to see them right now."  
  
"Frodo, I've told them you've had an infection and a high fever. They understand. But they also know you're better now. And they are anxious to see you. They are your friends. Come now, you can't hide in this room forever. Let's get this over with. It won't be as painful as you think. The Cottons are good, decent folk who love you and Sam. They will keep this private and not tell anyone about your illness, as it's none of anyone else's business. Come on. Time for your bath."  
  
Frodo reluctantly agreed and managed to sit up in bed by himself. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up, he had a momentary bout of dizziness. Iris steadied him. "Do you need any help in the bath?" she asked.  
  
Frodo chuckled and glanced sideways at Iris. She suddenly realized how that innocent question could be interpreted. She blushed furiously.  
  
Frodo laughed, a good solid laugh free from any pain, "May I redeem your gracious offer on a later date?" He still sounded a trifle drugged.  
  
"Now, Mister Baggins," Iris lectured, "you must be feeling better, as your sense of humor has certainly returned. Or else my sedative is doing the talking. Mind your manners."  
  
"I noticed you didn't say No." He was enjoying teasing her. He felt a bit light-headed, like a good beer buzz. This was getting funny.  
  
Iris looked directly into his eyes. "All right. My offer stands for a later date. Date to be determined by mutual agreement. There. Satisfied?"  
  
"Not yet, but I'm sure I will be," he said with a smirk on his face.  
  
"OK. That's enough from you. Let me take this bandage off so you can go to your bath. Good. The wound has already closed up. But don't get it wet in your bath. I don't trust you to navigate to the wash room by yourself, in the state you're in. Let me help you."  
  
With that, Iris gathered up Frodo and some clean clothes and helped him to his bath. She plunked Frodo onto a chair beside the tub, unwilling to trust his own judgment in his sedative-addled state of mind. While he was passively waiting, humming a little tune to himself and occasionally chuckling at some inward joke, Iris made sure the water temperature was neither too cool or too hot. She waited just outside the slightly ajar door while Frodo disrobed and took his bath.  
  
Rosie had returned from Bag End and was helping Mrs. Cotton set the large family table for the evening meal. Rosie and her mother changed the bed clothes and freshened up the guest room while Nibs burned the infected cloths. Iris kept watch over Mister Frodo's bath. Farmer Cotton, Nibs, and the other members of the Cotton family gathered around the table for dinner. Iris was invited to stay, and she accepted. Two extra places were set at the end of the table.  
  
Frodo wobbled into the kitchen leaning on Iris's arm. He was still slightly groggy from the sedation. But he was clean and his hair was slightly damp from a good washing. He was wearing a plain long-sleeved shirt, brown trousers and matching vest over suspenders. Even under sedation, his vanity required dressing well no matter what. He looked somewhat pale, but very relaxed and rested. Perhaps overly relaxed. The Cottons all welcomed him back to the table and expressed their happiness at his recovery. They politely ignored his tendency to drift off in the middle of a sentence. And that's the last that was ever said of the illness.  
  
After dinner Iris gathered her medical bag and prepared to leave. It was dark out now. The North Wind had finally been defeated and a hint of warm Spring air was creaping in from the Southwest. Frodo was outside, bundled in a warm woolen cloak and extra blanket, smoking a pipe and trying to blow smoke rings like his Uncle Bilbo.  
  
"I used to like a good pipe of Longbottom leaf after a meal," he said, "but it does not taste good anymore. Ah well. I would love to walk you back home, Iris, but I'm afraid I'm still a little too wobbly for the walk back here afterwards."  
  
"Don't worry yourself with that, Frodo," Iris smiled. "Nibs will escort me home. And I wouldn't worry about loosing your taste for pipeweed. Get plenty of sleep tonight. I do want to see you tomorrow though. Come down to my place and I'll remove the stitches. And next time you start experiencing pain, please come to me immediately. Don't wait."  
  
"Yes Mam. I promise. And I am going to hold you to your promise to help me with a bath someday." He grinned, and then suddenly reached for her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he gently kissed her hand. "Thank you for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Nibs and Iris headed on down the lane. As they rounded a bend, she looked back. She could see the soft glow of his pipe in the dark. 


	17. Secret

Chapter Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Title: Secret  
  
March 14 S.R. 1420  
  
Around 11:00 in the morning Frodo knocked at the Apothecary's door and entered. An elderly hobbitess was chatting with Tandy Bolger.  
  
"Why, young Mister Baggins. How nice to see you," the matron smiled as Frodo stepped into the crowded room. "You've moved back to Bag End, have you not?"  
  
"A pleasure to see you too Mrs. Weatherby," he politely replied. "Yes, I moved in at the end of last month. I do hope you are well."  
  
"As well as can be expected when you're pushing 90," says Mrs. Weatherby. "But you need to put on some weight, Mister Baggins. Marry a nice Hobbiton lass and settle down. I can arrange to introduce you to my granddaughters." Frodo smiled politely and privately rolled his eyes at Tandy.  
  
Mrs. Weatherby turned her attention back to the Apothecary. "Please tell the Doctor that the ointment is wonderful."  
  
"I will certainly do that Mrs. Weatherby," Tandy replied. "Will that be all for you?" he asked as he carefully wrapped a yellow tin of ointment and placed it in his client's handbag.  
  
"Yes indeed," she said. "Good day Mister Bolger. Good day young Mister Baggins." The two hobbits said their gooddays to Mrs. Weatherby as she hobbled out the door.  
  
As soon as the door was closed Tandy laughed. "Watch out for that one! Her granddaughters are nice looking, but dull as the day is long."  
  
"Is Iris in? I have an appointment with her this morning," Frodo asked.  
  
"Right in back there Mister Frodo," said Tandy, pointing to the door on the left. "Go on in. She's not with a patient right now."  
  
Frodo knocked on the door.  
  
"Come in," said Iris. "Frodo. Please, sit down on the bed. Sorry about the state of this 'office.'" The surgical office doubled as her bedroom. "If you will please take off your shirt I'll get what I need for removing the stitches."  
  
Frodo unbuttoned and removed his coat, vest and shirt while watching Iris take out some clean cloths, instruments, and an ointment tin. She came over and sat next to him on the bed, examining the rapidly-healing wound.  
  
"Hmm. Very good," she said. "You heal remarkably fast. You'll not be needing these stitches. Hold still. This may sting a bit." She deftly snipped the stitches and pulled them out. Frodo didn't flinch or speak. He seemed rather disconnected. He watched passively as Iris dabbed away the pin pricks of blood, then applied the ointment.  
  
"You seem to have recovered quite well," she said. "The only reason I'm putting this bandage on is so the ointment doesn't stain your shirt. Reapply this ointment each night just before bed. Do this for a week and I don't think you'll have any more problems with that infection returning."  
  
Frodo merely nodded. He slipped the ointment tin into his breeches pocket and stood to put his shirt and vest back on. He was avoiding eye contact with her and she knew it.  
  
"Frodo? Is something bothering you?" Iris inquired.  
  
"I want to apologize. I am sorry if I caused you any problems yesterday," he said. "I appreciate how you handled talking with the Cottons about everything. They decided to not tell Sam about it when he returns, which is a great relief to me."  
  
"You didn't cause any problems for me," she said. He was still avoiding eye contact. "What else is bothering you?" Frodo finally looked directly at her.  
  
"Iris," he hesitated, suddenly sitting back down on the bed and blushing. "Iris, I believe I said some things yesterday which were not appropriate. I hope you did not take offense."  
  
Iris smiled. "Oh, you mean like helping you with a bath someday?"  
  
He glanced up at her, the tips of his ears and his cheeks fiery red, and nodded.  
  
Iris scooted over to be close to him and took his hand in hers. "Frodo Baggins. If you think you're getting off the hook for that indiscretion just because you were drugged, you are sadly mistaken. I fully intend to live up to my end of that promise. I expect you to do likewise."  
  
There was silence between them, then he suddenly smiled at her joke.  
  
"Miss Proudfoot," he said, "You are the most amazing hobbitess I've ever met. Once again, I am in your dept. Perhaps I can remedy this situation by inviting you over for tea tomorrow?"  
  
Iris and he stood. "It would be my pleasure. Now go on and get to work. I've other patients, you know."  
  
He bowed deeply, grabbed his coat, and departed.  
  
Iris remained suspicious. That last bit about the bath was only to keep her from learning a deeper truth, she reasoned. Someday Frodo Baggins would finally confess his fears. It would not be a pretty sight either.  
  
March 15th  
  
The past two days had been balmy and full of warmth from the South. Iris walked over to Bag End to join Frodo for the promised afternoon tea. The garden at Bag End was blooming with early spring flowers. Crocus, daffodils and early tulips competed with jonquil and tiny grape hyacinths for primary attention around the front door. If the Bag End garden was any indication of the success of Sam's gardening work, then this year would be a banner year for the Shire.  
  
Iris pulled on the new doorbell strand, setting off the cacophony of tinkling jangles. Frodo appeared at the door in an uncharacteristic fashion, wiping his hands on a filthy towel. He had on an old work shirt and mismatched trousers, and was completely covered in mud and grout.  
  
"Oh, Iris! What time is it? Is it tea time already? Sorry, please come in. Sorry about the mess. Here, let me take your coat. On second thought, you will have to do that yourself, as I am filthy."  
  
Iris chuckled as she took off her coat and hung it up in the hallway. "What are you doing? You look like a five-year-old that's been making mud pies for his Gram."  
  
Frodo rolled his eyes at her. "I will have you know that I am replacing the floor in the second bathing room. Look…I am not the neatest person when forced to do manual labor, but I can at least grout in a tile floor. And I want to hurry up and finish it before Sam gets back just so I can say 'Told you so.' He thinks he is the only one who can repair Bag End, and I am determined to prove him wrong. Well, give me a few moments to wash up." He disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Iris stopped in the front study and glanced over the piles of papers and maps on the desk. There were all kinds of stacks of notes, some in Elvish script, but most in the Common Speech written in a thin, wavy script. There was also a new, beautiful map titled "The Lonely Mountain" complete with illustrations of a dragon and some writing in Dwarvish rhunes. This handwriting was different.  
  
"Good! Perhaps he's started writing down some of his memories," she thought as she examined the contents of the desktop. A bound red leather book was lying in the center of the space. Only the first quarter of the book contained writing, and most of that was in the elder handwriting. A few lines in the new handwriting continued the story, then stopped.  
  
Iris carefully peeked at the small stack of loose papers to the right of the book. They also were covered in the strong, flowing script of the new handwriting. It was an outline. The words mentioned place names; some Iris recognized such as Buckelberry Ferry and Bree and even Rivendale. Some she did not, such as Helm's Deep, Anduin, Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes. She recognized Lothlorien only from Frodo's brief mention of it while under heavy sedation.  
  
On a separate page she found the handwriting had changed somewhat. It listed Weathertop, Cirith Ungol and Orodruin. These words were written in red. And in very small print down at the bottom of the page was printed a single word: precious.  
  
Iris was very curious about all this, but left the papers as she found them. She followed Frodo into the kitchen after giving him sufficient time to clean up.  
  
The smell of strong black tea and fresh bread and jam saturated the room. Frodo had cleaned himself up at the sink and had discarded the old shirt. He was pulling on a fresh white linen blouse and tucking it into his breeches as Iris walked in. A little bouquet of yellow daffodils on the table brightened up the room. It was all very homey and warm.  
  
"I am sorry," Frodo said. "I got to working and forgot what time it was."  
  
"It's OK Frodo," Iris replied as she sat down at the table. He brought over the tea service and poured the tea.  
  
"I hope you have not strained your shoulder injury with this tile-setting," she admonished.  
  
"Oh, no. I am fine. Really. I will show you when we are finished with tea. I am rather proud of my work. You will have to tell me if you think Sam will give his stamp of approval, or have to rip it all out and start again. You will tell me the truth, won't you?"  
  
Iris looked him squarely in the eyes, "I always do."  
  
That comment stopped Frodo in mid-sip. "What do you mean by that?" His voice was a challenge.  
  
"I mean I am truthful with you," she replied in an even, neutral voice. "I wish you would be truthful with me. You are not fine. Really. I don't think it's good for you to be doing this sort of heavy labor immediately after an episode such as you just had on the 13th. I think you are using the physical labor to avoid thinking and talking about how the Ring affected you. I wish you would talk about it."  
  
Iris could hear the clock ticking on the mantelpiece in the next room, the silence was so sudden and thick. Frodo looked like she had just slapped him. "Oh, NOT a good thing to say!" she mentally kicked herself.  
  
"And who are YOU to lecture ME about the Ring?" His voice was low and quiet and sharp as a knife blade. He carefully placed the tea cup down on the table and spread his hands across the boards, palms down. It only emphasized his missing ring finger.  
  
There was no turning back now. She tried to make her voice come out as even and non-judgmental as possible, but it betrayed her emotions. "I am your friend and I am your physician. I care about you and I care about your health. I do not understand the power this Ring still exerts over you, but I know you will continue to experience pain and anguish if you do not talk about it."  
  
His blue eyes pierced her green. His voice sounded of ashes and bitter stone. "You know nothing about It. What you ask for is dangerous. We are quite capable of violence still." There was a threat in his voice she had not heard before.  
  
"What violence have you committed?" Iris was relentless. Inwardly she was as frightened as she had ever been in her life. But her patient needed her to be steady.  
  
Silence. He was debating within himself.  
  
"Murder."  
  
Frodo's eyes continued to bore into hers. "We killed him." He had not blinked nor changed expressions. It was as if someone else was answering in that flat, emotionless voice. Something dead and uncaring.  
  
"Who did you kill?" Iris met his stare with her own. Again, she kept her voice calm and steady, even though her heart was pounding.  
  
"Smeagol." 


	18. The Ghost of Smeagol

Chapter Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Title: The Ghost of Smeagol  
  
  
  
Neither moved. The air in the kitchen almost vibrated with tension and fear.  
  
Iris recognized the name Smeagol. It was Frodo's name for the creature called Gollum which Mrs. Cotton had mentioned when she and Iris had sat and chatted after Frodo's surgery on the 13th. Frodo was talking about the creature which had attacked both him and Sam. The creature which bit off Frodo's finger and perished in the fires of Mount Doom, along with the One Ring.  
  
Frodo continued to stare at Iris, his hands splayed in front of him on the kitchen table. His breathing was becoming more rapid and his face was turning very white. He suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, stood up and doubled over in distress.  
  
Iris leapt from her seat and rushed around the end of the table to him.  
  
"Iris," he panted, "I think I am going to be sick." He certainly looked it. But his voice sounded like the Frodo she knew.  
  
"Here. In the sink," she quickly instructed. He threw up.  
  
In-between Frodo's heavings, Iris heard the front door being opened and shut. Iris was still occupied with Frodo's sickness when Sam bolted into the kitchen. He was back from his latest planting foray. He had heard the commotion in the kitchen and had run into the room without even removing his cloak. Iris continued to support a wobbly Frodo as he retched over the sink.  
  
Iris held Sam back with a wave of her hand. He stood in the doorway, shocked. Frodo finally finished with a gasp. Iris sat him down on his chair, putting his head between his knees and placing her hand on his back. The tears were rolling down his face. Frodo held his head in his hands, sobbing. He was still unaware that Sam had returned and had witnessed the scene.  
  
Sam came over and knelt at Frodo's feet. Frodo looked up, distress and anguish mixing with guilt and shame. "Oh, Sam…"  
  
Sam gathered Frodo into his arms for a strong hug as Frodo struggled to contain his raging emotions. Empathetic tears stained Sam's tanned face as he held his lifelong friend and mentor. Iris backed away from the pair.  
  
"Your Sam is here," he said. "Let it out. Tell me what happened."  
  
Frodo was completely miserable but unable to stop the flood of emotional words. They stood and Frodo pushed Sam away to arm's length.  
  
"I killed him, Sam," he sobbed.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Smeagol."  
  
Sam shook his head emphatically. "No you didn't. He tripped and fell in. You didn't kill him."  
  
"Sam, you could not see it. You were wounded. You had blood in your eyes. When he was distracted, dancing obscenely with my finger and the Ring in his bony clutches, laughing and prancing…I…I pushed him. I pushed him in. I couldn't stand the thought of him taking It from me. He did not trip. I pushed him. I murdered him, Sam. Oh, Elbereth, help me." Frodo tried to twist out of Sam's grasp.  
  
Sam would not let go. "I was there, master. I saw what happened. You did not push him. You were on the ground, holding your hand. It was bleeding terribly. There was blood all over the ground. He must have slipped in the blood. He must have tripped over you when you were curled up on the ground. You couldn't have pushed 'em in. You were holding your hand. I saw you holding your hand."  
  
"But I did. I did push him! Oh, Sam…I gave him my word he would be safe with me. I gave him my solemn oath back at the pool in Ithilien. I spoke it before Faramir. I spoke it before you. I swore I would protect him. He trusted me. He even saved our lives. And… and I killed him! What sort of horrible creature have I turned into? This is eating me alive!"  
  
Iris said and did nothing during this painful exchange. What could she add? Nothing. She had not been there. This was between Sam and Frodo. The only living witnesses to the destruction of the One Ring.  
  
Frodo continued his dreadful confession. "I should have died - not him. I should have found the strength to leap into the fire while I still had a choice. I was prepared to sacrifice myself. I thought about doing it the entire time we were in Mordor. It was the only I could think of where I could take the Ring to the fire and guarantee that It actually went into the fire. I knew I could not throw It in willingly. I was going to run and leap over the edge before you or the Nazgul or anyone else could stop me. I thought I had the solution. I thought I was ready!  
  
But when we reached Orodruin, I could not do it. The Ring had consumed me. I had no choice but to put It on. I had no strength left to fight It any longer. I could not cast the Precious away. I could not give It to you. I could not ignore It. It filled me with a lust so strong I could do nothing except what It commanded. I had no choice but to carry out Smeagol's death sentence.  
  
Sam? Remember when Smeagol tried to touch the Ring when we were at the Black Gate? I uttered a curse upon him then. If he ever touched the Precious again, he himself would be cast into the fire. Do you remember that, Sam?" Frodo was grabbing onto Sam's cloak now, jerking Sam towards his face. "Do you remember?!"  
  
"Yes!" Sam wrenched away from Frodo's grasp and backed up a step. "Yes, I remember! How could I forget? You were possessed! It weren't you talking. It was that damned Ring. It was cursing Gollum. Not you!"  
  
"No! I cursed him! Not the Ring! I cursed him!" Frodo yelled. "I caused his death." Frodo suddenly fell to his knees on the floor.  
  
"Precious held me to my own curse," his voice came out hollow as wind blowing though the Barrow-downs. He clutched his hands to his head. "Smeagol touched the Precious, and Precious called me to be the instrument to fulfill my curse. So I did. I pushed him over the edge and into the fire."  
  
Frodo looked up at Sam.  
  
"If you had tried to take the Ring from me at that moment, I would have pushed you in too, Sam."  
  
The last words were a hoarse whisper full of blackness and self-hatred. Sam was standing alone, his lips pulled tight to fight off a cry of pity. Sam finally accepted that Frodo was telling the truth.  
  
"Sam… you should have left me to die on that mountain." 


	19. Over the Edge

Chapter Rating: PG  
  
Chapter Title: Over the Edge  
  
"Sam… you should have left me to die on that mountain."  
  
Frodo sighed, bowed his head, closed his eyes, and crumpled into a heap kneeling on the kitchen floor, his hands turned palm up resting against his thighs. It was an unconscious gesture of utter defeat. He had placed himself in a position ready for sacrificial slaughter; awaiting the expected blow with resignation.  
  
Sam stood above him, in shock, his mouth slightly open as if he were going to repudiate Frodo's outburst, but then was struck dumb. There weren't enough words in Middle Earth to describe his feelings at that moment.  
  
Iris could hardly believe what she had just heard. Frodo had confessed to cursing and then killing the creature he called Smeagol. Sam had tried to explain Frodo's actions away, but ended up verifying them instead. Iris didn't know a lot about the One Ring, but its power over mortals was legendary. Frodo was not inherently evil. How had he been put into such a terrible moral dilemma?  
  
She softly walked over to Frodo and knelt at his side, just out of his peripheral vision.  
  
"Frodo? How long did you carry the Ring on your person?"  
  
He did not move while he answered. It was as if he were answering to an unseen judge who held a glass-sharp sword above his neck, ready to strike.  
  
"The entire journey. I carried it around my neck on a chain from September until It was destroyed on March 25th."  
  
Sam removed his cloak and knelt before Frodo, careful not to touch him. Iris continued her questioning.  
  
"How long did you have the Ring before you started your journey?"  
  
"Fifteen years. I hid It for fifteen years in the Shire."  
  
"In all that time, could you have ever voluntarily let it receive any hurt?"  
  
"No. Once Gimli tried to destroy it during the Council of Elrond."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I did not know he was going to attempt to destroy the Ring, or I would have never placed It where he could have reached it. When the axe struck the Ring, I was the one who felt the blow. Gimli's axe shattered."  
  
"So you were already inextricably linked to the Ring, even then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Tears were running down Sam's face.  
  
"Was there any time when you could have voluntarily given up the Ring to someone else?"  
  
"Yes. Well…no. I tried to. I tried to get Gandalf to take It. I offered It to the Lady of the Woods. But even when I did so, I would have never actually given the Precious to them. They both wisely refused. They are very wise. Once you have the Ring, It eats your mind. You eventually loose yourself in Its lust. You become the vial of its evil."  
  
"Did Gandalf or Lord Elrond know you could not voluntarily give up the Ring?"  
  
"Yes. Gandalf knew. He even showed me how difficult it would be for me to do so, even way back when I first inherited the Ring. Bilbo was the only one in history to actually voluntarily give up the Ring. Gandalf wanted me to throw It into the fireplace so he could read its secret writing. I did not know that was what he wanted. I could not bring myself to throw It in. He snatched the envelop containing the Precious out of my hands and threw it into the fireplace before I could react. I would have burned my hands trying to retrieve It out of the fire if he had not held me back. Even then, even before I started keeping It on my person at all times, even then I could not have done It any harm, nor have voluntarily given It up."  
  
"Yet your task was to take it to Mount Doom and throw it into the fire, even though they knew you could not do it?"  
  
At this question Sam spoke up. "No Mam. He weren't asked to destroy the Ring. His job was just to take the Ring to the Mountain. Just get it there. I don't know if anyone knew what would happen once we got there. It was hopeless all along, really. Maybe they thought he could resist the Ring's power or something. None of them could, they sure knew that. They knew it had to be thrown into the fire, but nobody asked him to do that. Even the great Isildur couldn't resist it's lure. Would you have agreed to do that Mister Frodo? To destroy it?"  
  
"No." Frodo opened his eyes and looked at Sam.  
  
"Lord Elrond only asked my master to do what he was capable of doing," Sam said.  
  
Iris continued the questioning. "Frodo? Did you agree to do this freely…to take the Ring to Mount Doom?"  
  
"Yes. But the Council really had no choice. No one else could touch it and not be corrupted. It could tempt people without them even seeing it, much less touching it, or carrying it. I was already corrupted. I had It for years. But I could still execute my free will most of the time. Lord Elrond said I had exhibited extraordinary resistance to the Ring. And Gandalf had proven I would go mad if the Ring was forcibly taken from me. I was the only logical choice."  
  
"What did you plan on doing with the ring once you reached the mountain?"  
  
Frodo sighed and closed his eyes again. "I never expected to reach Mount Doom. I expected to be captured by the orcs and taken to Sauron for torture and eventual death. I never expected to actually reach Oroduin. I thought I was too weak. That was why a Fellowship was formed. In case I was unable to continue the mission, one of the others would. Perhaps Sam or Merry or more likely, Pippin. It was only through Sam's vigilance and Smeagol's guidance that I ever reached Oroduin."  
  
"But you must have anticipated destroying the Ring when you got to Mordor."  
  
Frodo raised his maimed hand to his chest, cradling it in his good hand, rubbing the stump of his missing ring finger and rocking back and forth slightly.  
  
Sam interrupted. "Iris! That's enough! He doesn't want to think about that. Leave 'em rest."  
  
Frodo opened his eyes. He reached out his left hand to Sam. Sam took it, came over and knelt at Frodo's side, putting his strong arm around Frodo's stooped shoulders.  
  
"Sam…let me talk," Frodo sighed. "I might as well get it all out of me." He turned and looked over his shoulder at Iris. She moved and knelt before him so that she was now directly in front of Frodo and he was able to look her in the eyes.  
  
"Frodo? You must have thought about destroying the Ring," she prompted.  
  
"Yes. I thought about it every waking second on our march to Mordor. The Precious wanted me to put It on. To let the Nazgul find me and take me to Barad-dur. It blinded me. It appeared to me as a wheel of fire. It whispered constantly in my head. It would be so easy to give up and let the Nazgul take me. No more starvation. No more dreadful thirst. No shameful reliance on others. On Sam. Precious promised me Sam would not be harmed. It said I could command the Nazgul. I could sweep my arms and all wrongs would be righted. All woes turned to gladness. All sorrows turned to joy. It even promised to raise my parents from the dead. To relive my childhood the way it should have been. I knew It lied. I wanted to cast It into the fire. To unmake It. To unmake its lies. But I had carried it too long. It knew me too well. We were one…the Ring and I…both evil.  
  
I planned on casting myself into the fire, taking the Ring with me...freeing Middle Earth from its evil. I was deceived. The Ring knew I could never harm It. It was Precious. It let me think those thoughts until it was too late and I had no choice."  
  
"What do you mean 'You had no choice'?"  
  
"I could not choose. I was compelled to put It on. I was compelled to claim It. I could not even control my own hands. I watched in horror as my own hand reached for the chain around my neck and placed Precious on my ring finger. I could not stop myself. And Sam was wounded. He could not help me again. He was lying on the cold stone floor with his head gashed and bleeding. There would be no help."  
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"Inside Orodruin. On the ledge leading to the fires. There was a smooth road carved out of the rock under my feet. The Precious forced me to look out the hallway, past Sam, through the carved door and see directly to His throne in Barad-dur. HE was there. The Eye was there. He was aware of me. He finally saw me. Precious was screaming to be reunited with him. The Eye and the Wheel were One. I could not find myself inside the Wheel. I was nothing. I am nothing."  
  
"Where was Smeagol?"  
  
"I could not see him at first. When you are in the Wheel of Fire you do not perceive the physical world well. You see the shadow world. It was already too late when I noticed him."  
  
"How did he appear to you?"  
  
"Loathsome. A small thread of sick lust and hate. The Precious hated him. The Precious had rejected him a long time ago. I pitied him. I knew I was becoming him."  
  
"What happened next?"  
  
A tear rolled down Frodo's anguished face. Sam gathered his distressed friend into his arms.  
  
"One thing at a time, Mister Frodo," Sam whispered. "We're here with you. We'll help you through. Take it just one small step at a time."  
  
"Smeagol attacked me while the Precious was upon me." Frodo's voice pleaded for understanding. "He…he… I…"  
  
"Where was Smeagol?" Iris quietly prompted.  
  
"He was hunched over Sam. He had a bloody rock in his hand. I do not know how he could see me, but he knew exactly where I was on that ledge. He looked directly at me with those huge unblinking green eyes. He hissed like a snake. He ran right to me before he could finish with Sam. He grabbed my hands. He had blood on his hands. Sam's blood.  
  
He grabbed me while I was inside the Wheel of Fire. I was captive inside the Eye of Sauron. I had no strength to fight them both. I was nothing. The Nazgul were coming for me. I was trying to hide from the Eye when I felt his hands on my throat and on my hand.  
  
Precious was being attacked! Precious commanded me to fight. I lacked the strength to resist. I should have let Smeagol's momentum carry us both over the edge and into the fire. But I could not control my body. The Ring forced me to fight. I lacked the strength to really fight. Smeagol…he…he pulled my hand to his mouth…his sharp, pointed teeth… I tried to pull my hand away… He…he…Sweet Elbereth, I watched him bite my finger off!"  
  
Frodo had turned ghostly white. He was staring off into space. He held his wounded hand, rubbing the stump of his missing ring finger. Sam was weeping, gently rocking Frodo back and forth while holding him in his arms.  
  
Iris let them comfort each other as best they could. She was having a hard time keeping her own emotions under control. She was appalled at what Frodo was saying. She wanted to reach out and comfort her friends. She longed to cradle them both as her wounded children, and tell them it would be all right – Mother would fix it. But it would not be all right, and they all knew it. She could never fix this deep a hurt. She could only offer an outlet for self-healing.  
  
After a short while Sam was able to control his weeping. He still gently rocked Frodo in his arms. Frodo had closed his eyes, lost in his personal memories for the moment. Iris knew she had to finish what he had started. She hated doing it, but she disturbed the silence.  
  
"Frodo? What did you feel after Smeagol bit off your finger?"  
  
Sam looked up at Iris with inexpressible sadness. Frodo did not open his eyes. He leaned his head back into Sam's shoulder, as if to gather strength from his best friend.  
  
"Relief. I was free from the Wheel of Fire. I was no longer in the Eye's gaze. Then I felt the pain."  
  
"Physical pain?"  
  
"No. Not pain from my hand. I could not feel my body at that moment. I mean, I could see my hand and it was bleeding profusely. I knew I cried out, but it was someone else's voice. It was as if I was looking at someone else's hand.  
  
The pain was…was… The Ring had been cut from me. I was no longer in It. It was gone! There was nothing. A hole. A hole in me. And he had It. That loathsome, vile, wasted ghost had the Precious."  
  
Frodo sat up and looked at Iris. Sam kept his hands on Frodo's shoulders, just in case Frodo lost control of himself.  
  
"I was filled with jealousy and hatred for the thing that had the Ring. I tried to lunge at him, but my body refused to obey. I fell down at Smeagol's feet. He was dancing. Dancing! And cackling. He was drunk with the Ring's power. I could see my finger still thrust through the Wheel of Fire. It dripped gore. He was spattered with blood from Sam and now me. If I had once held pity for Smeagol, it was no longer there.  
  
I lusted after the Ring. I HAD to get it back. It was mine! He jumped and waved the Ring around with my finger still in it. That was when the Ring commanded me to one final action. I had cursed Smeagol with the power of the Ring upon me. The Ring forced me to enact my own curse since I had evoked It in the curse. It declared that I had to kill Smeagol. Right then. So I pushed him over the edge and into the fires."  
  
"Frodo? Why would the Ring command you to do something which would result in its own destruction?"  
  
Frodo hesitated. He blinked and slumped back into Sam's arms. "But It didn't command me to destroy Itself. It commanded me to kill Smeagol."  
  
"So you had a choice of how to kill Smeagol?"  
  
Sam's eyes bored into Iris's. He was becoming angry with her incessant questioning of his master. "What kind of question is that? Doctor, can't you let it go?"  
  
"Be quiet Sam," she calmly replied. "This question is for Frodo." Turning her gaze back to him, she quietly asked, "Frodo? Did you have a choice of how to kill Smeagol?"  
  
"Yes." He was unsure about where she was leading him, but was simultaneously curious. He left the safety of Sam's protective arms, leaning forward on his knees until he could almost touch Iris.  
  
"If you were free to choose how to kill Smeagol, why did you decide to push him over the edge? Think carefully."  
  
Frodo was silent, thinking back to that horrible moment. Sam worried eyes were trained on Frodo's back, watching for what he did not know. Finally Frodo closed his eyes and slightly bowed his head.  
  
"I finally had control over my own mind. I thought, if I was compelled to kill Smeagol, this was the one way to do so and also complete my mission. Smeagol could carry the Ring into the Fires of Mount Doom instead of me. Smeagol could be sacrificed. He would not mind."  
  
"What do you mean, 'He would not mind?'"  
  
"It would be a release for him. He could finally die. And he would have the Precious with him to the end. His life was so bound up with the Ring, he was given unnatural longevity. It was not a gift. It was a curse. It was one of the ways the Ring tortured Its keepers. It did it to Bilbo. It did it to me as well. But Smeagol had to endure it for 500 years. Death would be a blessing for him. And his death would also guarantee the final destruction of the Ring. So…so I pushed him over the edge."  
  
"Frodo, you completed your mission in the only way possible for its success," Iris said. "You acted in the only rational way available in an impossible, terrible situation. There is no need for self-incrimination. You are not evil. The choice you made was not evil. No one places any blame on you. If not for your choice, we would all be dead or worse. Please forgive yourself."  
  
She and Sam stood up and helped Frodo to his feet.  
  
"I am tired," Frodo sighed.  
  
"You've been to the edge and back," Sam said as he steadied Frodo. "Take a rest. I'll come get you later." Frodo nodded his acceptance. Iris sat down at the kitchen table as Sam led Frodo to his bedroom.  
  
Sam soon returned. "He's already asleep," he said as he sank into a chair.  
  
Iris was trying to sort out all the thoughts flying through her mind. She turned to Sam. "I don't have any background about what you two actually did while on this quest to destroy the Ring. But I can't imagine a more wretched moral dilemma to find myself in. It's a wonder he didn't loose his mind right then and there. It's more of a wonder he is functioning at all."  
  
"He's strong, my master is," Sam replied. "But you were sure pushing it. I know he has to talk it out, but I wouldn't try doing it alone like that no more. You took an awful chance."  
  
Iris blanched at the sudden realization of what Sam just said. Frodo could have reacted violently at the release of his suppressed memories and emotions. He had tried to warn her earlier.  
  
"Oh, Elbereth! Sam, thank the stars you came in when you did. Do you think he has anything worse locked away in his head?"  
  
"No. This were it. Destroying the Ring was the worse thing. There's plenty 'o nasty things you don't know about. Well…not yet anyway. But this were the worse."  
  
"Then we need to keep a watch on Frodo tonight, Sam," Iris said. "I'm concerned he might try to do himself harm. Will you stay with him tonight? I need to go back to Hobbiton and get some herbs to help calm his mind and let him rest."  
  
Sam's face saddened and became wistful.  
  
"'Don't you leave him Samwise Gamgee.' That's what Mister Gandalf said to me. I thought Master was safe enough here at home in Bag End 'sos that I could leave 'em for awhile. I was wrong. I won't leave 'em again. I'll be here. You can count on it." 


	20. The Long-Delayed Start

Disclaimer: In this chapter I briefly quote from J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings", Book I, Chapter 1. No denigration is intended. I bow to the Master.  
  
Chapter Rating: G Chapter Title: The Long-delayed Start  
  
March 17th S.R. 1420  
  
Frodo awoke with a raging headache. That wasn't the only thing aching. His stomach felt like someone had been hitting him all night. All his muscles were sore. His ghost finger itched unmercifully. And it was cold and dark in the room. "Great," he sourly thought, "Maybe it will be raining too."  
  
It was.  
  
Frodo pulled on a robe, lighted a candle and headed to the kitchen. He was hungry. How long had it been since he had last eaten? He couldn't remember. He heard loud snoring emanating from his study. Sam was stretched out on his back on the rag rug in front of the now-cold fireplace, wrapped in his traveling cloak. His sandy brown hair was sticking out at all angles. So was his foot hair. Rain beat a tattoo on the windowpanes, occasionally blowing in mournful waves against the glass. Frodo quietly tiptoed out of the room, going to the kitchen using the secondary hallway.  
  
The kitchen was dark and the stove was cold as well. Frodo clattered about removing the ashes and reloading the firebox. As he was lighting the kindling, Sam walked in, scratching his head and yawning.  
  
"Mornin'," Sam cheerily said and stretched. He reached over to fill up the kettle with fresh water.  
  
"Morning," Frodo replied flatly as he got the fire going. His headache was fierce. He stood up and crossed his arms trying to gather non-existent warmth to himself. "Sam, what are you doing here? Did you spend the night on that rug?"  
  
"Well.yeh," Sam said. "Iris said someone should be here with you last night, so I stayed." He put the kettle on to boil and scratched his ear. "Say, do ya have some bacon or ham 'round here? I'll cook us up a nice breakfast." He started getting out the skillet and plates. He already had a bowl full of eggs ready for scrambling. Sam was an excellent cook and Frodo was famished. Who was he to argue?  
  
"Sure. They are both hanging in the pantry. Use whatever you want. I am going to start up a fire in the study."  
  
"Frodo?" Sam interrupted. "The doc came back last night and left some herb teas for you to take when you woke up. They're on the table. And she wrote instructions for 'em. She said you'd probably have a headache or somethin'." Sam went back to scrambling the eggs.  
  
Sure enough, there were two pouches of dried herbs on the homey wooden table. Frodo picked up the first pouch and read its attached instructions. It was in Tandy's handwriting.  
  
"For headaches, body aches & fever. Steep two teaspoons herbs per cup. One cup tea every two hours or until you feel better."  
  
He sniffed its contents. They were very astringent and sharp. Frodo recognized it immediately. It was willow bark mixed with other herbs to help mask the bitterness. The second pouch smelled distinctly of dusty dried grass and dirt with an odd top note of flowers. It was not a familiar smell, but not unpleasant. Its instructions read, "For depression. Steep one teaspoon per cup. One cup at breakfast. One cup before bed. May take up to six cups per day. Do not discontinue. Refill as often as you need." A personal note in Iris's handwriting had been attached. "Frodo - this might help your depression and poor sleep. Take it as often as you can today."  
  
"Sam?" Frodo took the second pouch over to where Sam was frying bacon on the stove top. "This smells familiar, but I can not quite place it. Do you know what this is?" He opened up the pouch and stuck it under Sam's nose, away from the smell of the frying bacon..  
  
Sam gave it a good sniff. "Hmm.I should know that smell. It's a flower, that's for sure. I think I got some of that from the South Farthing for the new medical garden. Lemme see. Yellow flower. Maybe it's. herblight? I think they call it John's Wort down south. Yeh, that's it... herblight. Don't know nothin' 'bout it, 'cept it was one of the plants Miss Proudfoot was keen on me getting. Kettle's on boil. Goin' ta make some tea out of it?"  
  
Frodo's head was pounding like the rain against the panes. "Yes. I'll get the setup." He got out three cups, two infusers and the normal teapot. He measured out the medicinal teas into the infusers and set them in two of the cups. Regular tea was added to the pot, then boiling water set to all three.  
  
Frodo shuffled into his study while the tea steeped and breakfast was cooked. He set a moderate fire to blazing in the fireplace and turned to face the worktable. The stacks of Bilbo's notes and maps were still there. Only this morning, they did not seem to be mocking him. They seemed innocuous, like it was Bilbo talking to him, teasing him to finish a tale he had begun a long time ago. They weren't the demons he had previously thought them to be. They were only stories awaiting completion. Frodo came back to the kitchen.  
  
Sam was laying out breakfast on the table. Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast and jam, as well as the teas. Sam popped out the front door and returned with some wet spring flowers, which he tossed into a vase and placed on the table beside a couple of candles. They dug into breakfast.  
  
"You wouldna believe the success rate we've had with the new trees," Sam said while wolfing down some eggs. "Almost every single tree transplanted has already taken root. Some are even sending out their buds already! Did 'cha know that little nut in the Lady's gift box is a mallorn tree? It's already shooting up like it can't wait for summer. I can't believe the cherry trees too. All swollen up with bud and leaf. It's like the Lady herself visited each and every tree and blessed it." Sam chatted on and on about the success of the replanting.  
  
Frodo listened politely, every now and again asking a question. His stomach was feeling much better now that he had some good, solid hobbit cooking in it. And his headache was receding, thanks to the willow bark tea. As to the effects of the other concoction, he was unclear. But Sam's relentless chit chat was beginning to annoy him.  
  
"Sam, thanks for breakfast and all. And thanks for spending the night, even though I do not think it was necessary," Frodo said as he gathered up the breakfast dishes and headed off to the sink.  
  
"Here, Mister Frodo," Sam climbed out of his chair and began clearing the rest of the dishes off the table. "Let me do them."  
  
"Sam," Frodo interrupted, "I am not an invalid. I feel fine. I will wash up. I think it's time you went home."  
  
"Oh no, sir," Sam continued to clean up the kitchen, "You just go on and get dressed and all. I'll take care of this."  
  
"Sam," Frodo gently took the dishes out of Sam's hands, "you are my good friend so I would not say this to just anybody. I hope you will not take this wrong. Sam.you smell like a stoat and look like a fur coat that's been left out in the rain. Why don't you go home and take a bath? Rose will never marry you if you insist on smelling the way you do."  
  
"Well." Sam blushed, "I did come over here without seein' my Gaffer yesterday. Didn't quite have time to take a proper bath or nothin.'"  
  
"I know," Frodo smiled, "and I appreciate everything you did last night. But please. Go home."  
  
"You'll be alright by yerself?" Sam placed his hand on Frodo's arm and looked him in the eyes.  
  
"Yes," Frodo nodded and grinned, "I am a grown hobbit and can take care of myself when pressed to it. Go ahead. Take a day off and relax. If anyone deserves it, it is you. If you distrust me, come over after lunch. I will be working in the study."  
  
Sam reluctantly agreed, picked up his cloak and left, promising to come over later after dinner.  
  
Frodo finished washing up the remains of breakfast and then headed into the bathing room. He needed a bath as desperately as Sam did. After bathing and dressing, he grabbed another cup of the herblight tea and went into the study.  
  
"I can do this," he thought as he set the tea down and picked through Bilbo's notes. "I can do this. It is not that hard. I can write this all out without coming unglued. Or if it becomes too difficult, I can seek help from Sam or even Iris. I will take it one step at a time, like she said. This history must be written down, and I seem to be the only one who can do it. Can't trust Merry or Pippin to do it. Beside, they were off in Rohan and Gondor. Sam and I are the only ones who witnessed the actual ending of the Third Age in... in. well, I can think about that later. And if I become stuck on something. something terrible or missing. I will ask Sam for help. But where do I start?"  
  
He took a deep breath and sat down at the table. A yellowing page of parchment with Bilbo's handwriting caught his eye. Bilbo was describing the fireworks at his famous birthday party. Frodo picked up a pen and began writing:  
  
* When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. * 


	21. High Society

Chapter Rating: G Chapter Title: High Society  
  
April S.R. 1420  
  
"Harrumph! May I have your attention, please? Good gentlehobbits one and all.I hereby declare Bag End to be open!" huffed Sam, sticking his gut out, waving his arms and comically bending at the waist. "Deputy Mayor, Mister Baggins, sir, you may cut the ribbon."  
  
Frodo took his short sword, Sting, did a series of fancy flourished to the amusement of the gathered party, and neatly sliced through the sky blue ribbon in front of Bag End's door.  
  
"Sam, you do an excellent Mayor Whitfoot imitation!" Merry laughed. "You're a natural! If you keep eating Rosie's cooking you'll eventually have the stomach for it too! Why don't you run for Mayor?"  
  
"And why not?" Pippin interrupted. "Sam's probably the most famous person in the Shire right now, what with all that traveling about and replanting. I think you would make a great Mayor Sam, um, not to say that Frodo hasn't done an excellent job as Deputy Mayor. No disrespect intended, Frodo."  
  
"Thank you, thank you very much, my loyal citizens," Frodo pontificated as he did a reverse flourish to put Sting back into its scabbard. He then took an exaggerated bow to howls of laughter and handclapping. He was feeling great today. His house at long last looked and felt like a home.  
  
Restoration at Bag End was finally complete. Merry and Pippin had come over the day before with a couple of cartloads of Frodo's furniture from Crickethollow. They had spent the night in the newly completed Bag End. Frodo had decided to throw a small private party to celebrate.  
  
Besides Sam, Merry and Pippin, Frodo had invited Rosie and Nibs Cotton, Freddy Bolger and Iris Proudfoot. Merry and Pippin had graciously included a barrel of beer imported from The Prancing Pony Inn in Bree. Barliman's beer was getting a reputation as the best beer in and around the Shire, which was saying a lot considering how many pubs and inns (as well as the homebrews) in the Shire offered excellent stouts, bitters, ales and porters. The Prancing Pony Ale was now enjoyed outside of Bree and even as far away as Hobbiton.  
  
"Pippin," said Freddy as he lugged the barrel inside Bag End, "this barrel seems a tad bit light."  
  
"We had to give it a good tapping just to make sure it was of the finest quality, you know," Pippin said as he drew mugs for the guests. "Mr. Butterbur sends his regards, but he was much too busy to write it down properly. We all know how busy he is!"  
  
Frodo had prepared a large supper of Bilbo's famous mushroom and spring onion stew. Cheeses and breads along with pickles and various relishes piled the table. Between the beer and the food, everyone enjoyed themselves immensely. Most of the small talk concerned the flowering of the new mallorn tree which Sam had planted in the Party Field. No one, including Sam, could believe the small tree was growing so quickly. What was a dull, seemingly lifeless nut just a few months earlier was now a sapling of five feet, with beautiful golden blossoms and pale green leaves. It seemed to gain another inch or so each day.  
  
The other topic of discussion was the recent death of Lobelia Sackville- Baggins. The old crone had died and, to the surprise of all, had willed the remainder of her money, and all of her murdered son Lotho's money, to Frodo. She had asked for it to be used in helping hobbits made homeless by the troubles. A toast was made to her memory - probably the first and only time anyone had actually missed the old dame. Frodo had given the money to the Hobbiton rebuilding projects.  
  
"By the way," Iris said as she drank her ale, "I received an invitation today in the post. I was wondering if any of you could explain its significance to me. It's from old Widow Mayfield. She's invited me to a formal tea next Tuesday at half past three in the afternoon. She says it will be to introduce me to her lady friends. I am to dress formally and expect to be there awhile. Now what is that all about?"  
  
Frodo, Merry and Pippin looked at each other and burst into laughter. Rosie and Sam, representing the working classes were struck speechless. Nibs and Freddy simply looked as confused as Iris.  
  
When Frodo could contain himself he said, "Well, well well. Welcome to Hobbiton's High Society tea and formal inquisition! That's too funny. Oh, Merry, can you just hear them now?"  
  
Merry stood up, set down his ale, assumed a mocking pose with his hands clasped in front of him, stuck his nose in the air and declared in a high- pitched whiny voice, "Right! You seem like a nice young hobbitess. But we don't approve of your living with your unmarried cousin. Mister Tandy's not a bad sort, you understand, but it simply will not do, what with you being single and all. You'll not be thinking about consorting with any of those disturbers of the peace, such as those Tooks, now are you?"  
  
"Hey! You watch what you say about Tooks!" admonished Pippin. "It's all true too! We're a bunch of disturbers of the peace out there in Tookborough. Just ask the Thain."  
  
"Oh, anybody could verify what's said about the Tooks," Freddy laughed.  
  
"Oh, Tooks are the worst!" continued Merry in the same high-pitched voice. "But mind you those Bagginses. They are always running off on some fool adventure. You never know what's going to happen with a Baggins or a Took! Especially if you associate yourself with those Travelers. Nice lads individually, but get them together and trouble is sure to follow."  
  
Frodo stood up and continued the jesting. He wagged his index finger at Iris. "And let's not forget to warn you about those wild Brandybucks. They think they're too good for the rest of the Shire. What with all of them living like pack rats across the Brandywine River in that big old hall of theirs. Why, there must be hundreds of 'em all living under the same roof. They even have dogs in there! To think of it! The shame! No privacy at all. And them all making all that noise blowing their silly little horns and all."  
  
Merry had his little silver horn with him. He set it to his lips and let out a small 'toot'. With that, everyone howled with laughter. Nibs asked Frodo if he had ever had to go to one of the old lady's formal teas.  
  
"Yes I did," Frodo chuckled as he sat back down. "I must have been twenty- two or so. I remember it was not very long after my Uncle Bilbo adopted me. He received 'the summons to tea' as it was called back then. He was to bring me along too. Well, I had to put on my best clothes and be on my best behavior. Bilbo warned me that I was being introduced to Hobbiton Society and I should not make a fool of myself in front of the Ladies. We had to be oh-so-polite.  
  
There were maybe ten old hobbitesses at the tea - all of them over 80. And they oh-so-politely asked us all kinds of questions. Really personal questions. I remember the Widow Weatherby taking me aside whilst the rest of the ladies were questioning Bilbo. They were asking him about how he was raising me. Weather he was going to make me his heir or not. Why I wasn't sent off to live with my Took relations, or left with the Brandybucks. All this really personal sort of thing. I didn't get to hear Bilbo's answers, because Window Weatherby was asking me equally personal questions about Uncle Bilbo. Did he ever have lady friends over to Bag End? Did they have a proper chaperone? What sort of trade was I to learn? Who was our housekeeper? What did Uncle Bilbo do with all that dragon gold he supposedly had secreted here at Bag End? Oh, it was quite a day evading answering the ladies.  
  
I was warned to not get into any foolishness such as consorting with Dwarves or Wizards like my Uncle did, or learning more than was proper for a good, respectable hobbit lad, or going off on Adventures. When it was all over and Bilbo and I were back safely at Bag End, he told me I had made a good impression with the Ladies. And he was pleased that I managed to sidestep most of their questions without breaking any of the rules. However, they did criticize the way I had ironed my shirt. So Uncle Bilbo had me wash and iron every shirt we both owned before I could have dinner. I'll never forget that day!"  
  
"Well I'm glad I won't never have to take tea with the Ladies," said Sam, snuggling up to Rosie.  
  
"Don't be so sure you won't, Sam," said Frodo. "Like Pippin said, you are a rising star now, what with all the planning and gardening and reforesting work you have done in the Shire this year. I am sure Mayor Whitfoot and the rest of Hobbiton society have noticed your abilities. You and Merry and Pippin are quite the talk of the Shire. I would not be at all surprised if you and Rosie, and even Pippin and Merry here find yourselves summoned to tea sometime in the near future."  
  
"Nobody would ever knowingly invite a Took to tea," laughed Merry.  
  
"Speak for yourself, you wild Brandybuck," Pippin said as he punched Merry in the arm. "I'm a dashing young Knight of the King's Guard. I'll get invited to high tea before you ever will. And besides, my dad and mum had to go to tea back when he was made Thain. They said they hated it, but it's just something you have to endure. Iris, you've been properly warned." With that, they all had a laugh and shared another round of drinks. 


	22. Arwen's Gift

Chapter Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual situations) Chapter Title: Arwen's Gift  
  
May 1st S.R. 1420  
  
Samwise Gamgee married Rose Cotton on May Day, S.R.1420. The "jumping the broom" ceremony took place at Farmer Cotton's farm house, with Master Tom Cotton and his wife, Lily holding one end of the broom, and Hamfast Gamgee holding the other. Sam's best man, of course, was Frodo, and maid of honor was Rosie's cousin, Merigold Cotton.  
  
A very large party was held in a tent in the back pasture, with music, dancing and lots of ale. The Cottons knew how to throw a lively, if somewhat rustic, party. Rose and Sam stayed and danced at their party, mixing with the well-wishers and relatives from out-of-town. They eventually departed for their honeymoon at Crickethollow, riding in a beautifully decorated pony cart Merry and Pippin had thoughtfully provided. Bill the Pony appeared as festive as the bride and groom, with little bells and ribbons woven into his mane and tail. The party continued as Sam and Rose traveled off to Buckland.  
  
For some reason Frodo had been feeling unquiet and anxious all day. He couldn't help thinking about another wedding he had recently attended; King Aragorn and Queen Arwen's elaborate state ceremony in Gondor. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin were all talked into being active participants at that wedding, since they were members of the same Fellowship as the King. Frodo was reminiscing with Merry about the whole affair.  
  
"Big People and Elves have strange notions about clothes," he said to Merry. "I felt absolutely ridiculous in that silly outfit they made me wear. Far too many decorative elements and embroideries for my taste. I hated that little gold crown thing too. Kept getting tangled up in my hair."  
  
"Well, I look good in the Big Folk's clothes," Merry protested. "At least they fit. Do you know Pippin and I have to have all our clothes special ordered now? The tailors keep complaining about our size and the materials we like. Personally, I think Pippin can put away that black and silver military outfit now, but you know he fancies the lasses like 'em in it. So he wears it as often as he can."  
  
"Yes," Frodo laughed, "he has become quite the lady's hobbit now."  
  
Though Sam and Rosie's "jumping the broom" wedding was considerably smaller in size and grandeur, both weddings evoked the same emotion in Frodo. He felt as if life was passing him by. His friends were able to continue on with their lives after the War had ended. For Frodo, the War was continuing in his mind.  
  
"Iris, would you care to dance?" Frodo asked as a slow number started playing. He took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor set up in the pasture. It was getting on into late afternoon, with the sun setting behind large pink and maroon clouds. The party would continue well into the night.  
  
"Frodo, is something wrong?" Iris asked as they swayed to the music. She noticed he was unusually withdrawn today.  
  
"Oh, no. It is nothing. I sometimes feel a bit awkward in large crowds, that's all," he improvised. "Would you like to come with me to one of my favorite places in the Shire?"  
  
"As long as it's not an hours walk or more," she replied. She didn't want Frodo to back out of this important social engagement.  
  
"Come on.it is just down the lane." Frodo and Iris walked hand-in-hand down the little country lane and into the dusk. He was leading her back to Bag Shot Row.  
  
"What? We're going to Bag End?" Iris asked.  
  
"Not quite. You will see," he said. They had reached Bag End, but instead of going inside, he led her around the side and up a faint footpath to the top of the hill. The three chimneys of Bag End poked out of the ground in the midst of lush green grass and white and gold wildflowers on the hill. Frodo took her to a small depression at the top of the hill near the largest chimney. It was just past dusk, and the stars were twinkling bright in the gloaming.  
  
They sat inside the little depression in the soft grass and gazed out over Hobbiton and Bywater. The candlelight of the towns twinkled and glowed with happiness and the promise of the comforts of home. The Elvish stars reflected their tiny twinkling lights in the small slow river flowing through Bywater. The sound of its water gently splashing round the grist wheel combined with music floating up from the wedding party pasture and the sound of crickets and night creatures to make melody in the twilight.  
  
"It's beautiful up here," Iris said. "But I bet I'm not the first lass you've taken up here." She grinned and playfully kissed his cheek.  
  
"Miss Proudfoot," he mockingly replied, "I am not one to kiss and tell." He glanced sideways at her and the corner of his mouth creaked into a lopsided smile. "But I did loose my virginity up here."  
  
"Oh, you rascal!" Iris pushed him back into the grass, "and you won't tell me who it was, will you?"  
  
"No, I most certainly will not!" Frodo laughed. They laid side-by-side atop the hill, looking at the stars.  
  
"This is one of my favorite places in all Middle Earth," Frodo quietly said. "In my journeys I have seen marvelous mountains, been inside fantastical Dwarvish caverns and halls, have briefly lived in the mystical autumn waterfalls of Rivendale and even walked enchanted golden Lothlorien. But this is where I wish to be. I used to hide here from Bilbo when he was calling me to come back inside and do chores or study. Funny how one becomes attached to where you were raised. There is really nothing special about the top of Bag End Hill. But it is more precious to me than all the dragon gold and mithril in Middle Earth."  
  
Frodo gathered Iris into his arms and kissed her. It was a feather-light brush of lips to lips. She responded to his touch by lying back into the grass and inviting him into her arms. Frodo leaned over her and teasingly unknotted the ties on her bodice. Her breasts respond to his warm hands, and then his warmer mouth. Iris ran her hands through Frodo's thick curly hair, then down the front of his vest, unbuttoning as she went.  
  
"Turnabout is fair play," she said. They laughed and played in the cool evening grass. Music from the wedding party drifted by on the late Spring breeze. Frodo was lying on the grass with his left hand behind his head as Iris playfully straddled his hips and finished unbuttoning his vest and shirt. Her hand strayed across a fine silver chain with a white gem like a star hanging about Frodo's neck.  
  
"Oh Frodo," she said, "how lovely. What is it?" The pendant felt slightly warm in her palm, and it glowed with a pale whitish-pink light.  
  
He smiled a rather sad smile, "It is a special gift from the Queen of Gondor, Arwen Evenstar, fairest of the Elves. I wear it at all times now. She gave it to me nearly a year ago. It is priceless beyond its loveliness, and worth more than you or I will ever know. It brings me comfort when my memories trouble me or when I am in pain. Somehow she knew I would need it."  
  
The mood had turned slightly bittersweet for him, and he softly stroked Iris's hair and skin in random circles and lines. Iris could see the terrible hard white scar on Frodo's left shoulder by the faint light of the gem. The wound gleamed slightly in the starlight, radiating towards his heart.  
  
Iris returned the pendant to his breast and gently caressed his scar. "I've known for some time that you carry the memory of great weariness and pain. Is there anything I can do to help ease your burden?"  
  
"You have done it already. Iris, I have never talked about the Queen's gift to anyone - not even Sam. I do not want anyone to know about my troubles or what I have been through. There are some things that I cannot bear to talk about even now. But I feel I can open myself up to you. You are different from everyone else in the Shire. I do not know what it is about you, but I feel safe and comforted and at ease when I am with you."  
  
With that confession he pulled her down to him and kissed her again. Iris laid her head into the crook of his right shoulder, stretching out alongside his body, resting her right hand on his breast, listening to his heartbeat. For the moment, they were content to rest in each other's arms lying on the sweet spring grass under the undying stars, with the sounds of merriment and dancing drifting up from Sam and Rosie's wedding party. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------  
  
The next day Frodo and Freddy took a pony cart over to Farmer Cotton's house. They met up with Merry and Pippin, who had driven another cart over from Crickethollow a couple of days previously. They are all there to help the Cottons move Rosie's belongings over to Bag End. The entourage traveled by way of the back portion of Bag Shot Row, stopping at #3 to retrieve Sam's belongs.  
  
Merry and Pippin were spending the next two weeks with Frodo at Bag End while Sam and Rosie took over their house at Crickethollow. Sam had thoughtfully arranged it so that Frodo was spared the heavier physical labor of moving furniture. The four friends stayed up into the late hours of the night unloading the pony carts and lugging everything inside Bag End. After a late dinner, Freddy decided to also spend the night, since the beer was so good and the company was so excellent.  
  
Freddy excused himself early the next day. "I'm off to Hobbiton. The lads finished up most of the business buildings yesterday, and folk are moving back in. The Doc and the Apothecary have already moved into their buildings. And I expect to be busy planning for the Free Fair."  
  
"How soon will the Green Dragon Inn be back in business?" Pippin inquired.  
  
"A few more days at the most," Freddy replied. "I predict they will pull the first pint on the 6th."  
  
"Great!" Pippin said with a smile. "I think we should take Sam and Rosie over there when they get back on the 8th. You know.a 'welcome home' party of sorts."  
  
"Pip, why don't you let the happy couple alone in their new house for a little while at least?" Merry complained. "We shouldn't overstay our welcome, you know."  
  
"They won't be alone," Pippin protested. "Frodo will be there. What's a couple more house guests?"  
  
"Pippin," Frodo said, "I will be so scarce that first week they will not even know I live there. But I think it is a grand idea for us to get together at the Green Dragon on the 8th, with or without Sam and Rose. Freddy? Could we all stay with you that night so Sam and Rose have Bag End to themselves?"  
  
"Well. sure," Freddy replied. "Just be sure to bring along a sleeping role or something, seeings as I only have two beds in the place."  
  
"Great!" Pippin exclaimed. "I don't mind sleeping on the floor. Merry and I have done more than our share of sleeping in worse places than your house."  
  
"Have you ever seen Freddy's room?" Merry joked. "We might have to re- route The Water through it to give us a little space for the bedrolls before going to bed." 


	23. Moria Memories

Chapter Rating: PG Chapter Title: Moria Memories  
  
May 15th S.R. 1420  
  
It was time for Iris and Frodo's weekly Friday afternoon walk. It was an unusually mild afternoon, full of the promise of a warm gentle summer. The bees were busily pollinating all the flowers around Bag End's front door. Iris was wearing a little short-sleeved sun dress. Frodo smiled to see her body outlined in the strong afternoon sunlight as he opened the door.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mister Baggins," she said.  
  
"Good afternoon, Miss Proudfoot," he replied. It was a ritual they performed each Friday. "Please come in. And where are we to go to today?" he inquired as she walked into the hallway.  
  
"I was thinking that a walk to Overhill and then along the old North Dwarf Road to Deephallow might be nice. Not too far today, but far enough."  
  
"Right then. Let me get my walking stick and a bit of brass," Frodo said as he organized his quills, inkpots, and papers into neat stacks and placed paperweights atop them. "We can pop into The Rose and Lily at Overhill on the way back. They have a nice ale there and the food is not bad either. And I believe Shandy Bracegirdle is playing fiddle there tonight."  
  
They started walking out of Bag End and along the road towards Overhill. A steady gentle breeze blew out of the South, sending wisps of clouds scurrying along and making the grass seed heads nod sleepily. They hiked along, only occasionally being passed by a farmer or merchant traveling by cart and pony. Each time they are asked if they would like a ride, and each time they politely declined.  
  
After about an hour's walk in their steady rhythm Iris began her weekly questioning. "How is your book coming along?"  
  
"Rather well, thank you," Frodo replied. "But really, you know, it is Bilbo's book. He started it and wrote the beginning and all of the poetry. I am filling in the details about the 'Happenings down South' as the folk in Bree call the War. Yesterday I began setting down what happened when we were in the Mines of Moria. That was a very dark time. I am trying to remember exactly what happened in there. Sometimes I remember things so clearly it is as if I am actually living them all over again. And other times my mind refuses to let me access certain thoughts. I know they are there. It is just that I cannot quite recall them fully. I am having to leave some things blank until I can ask Sam or Merry or Pippin to come help me remember them. But in this section I have no problems remembering everything."  
  
Iris smiled with satisfaction as they continued down the road. This is an unusually forthright statement from Frodo. Every time they traveled on their Friday walks, he was volunteering a little more information about the War and his role in it. Today was the first time he had mentioned that he was having trouble remembering certain obviously painful memories. "A good step. A necessary step," Iris thought.  
  
"I've never heard of Moria," she said. "Where is it?"  
  
"There is an enormous line of mountains south of the Southfarthing about 140 miles or so," explained Frodo. "It is actually a continuation of the Misty Mountains which extends very deep from the North into the South. These mountains have very few passes. One of them is the pass of the Redhorn Gate which leads under a side of Mount Caradhras. The Fellowship tried to use this pass to take us over the mountains, but that way was closed to us due to heavy snow. So Gimil, the Dwarf, suggested we go under the mountains, using the ancient Dwarf road leading through Moria. Moria is actually a wonderful complex of halls and rooms and tunnels which the Dwarves delved all the way from the West side of the mountains to the East. I would have loved to have seen them in their glory, all lighted up and full of life. But when we were there, it had been taken over by the Orcs. Orcs, and other worse creatures."  
  
At this, he stopped talking and actually stopped walking. Iris almost ran into him on the road, he stopped so suddenly. He was staring into space, remembering some long-suppressed memory.  
  
"Frodo?" she asked, gently taking him by the arm. "Look. There's a little path which leads off the road and into the glen over there. Let's take that and find a place to rest for a bit." This too was part of their ritual.  
  
He nodded and was willing to be lead. After a few minutes walk they reached a small meadow in the glen. Here they rested under a large oak tree, opened up Iris's backpack and shared some bread and water. After eating, Frodo stretched out on the soft leaves, resting his head in Iris's lap.  
  
"I'm sorry I just stopped like that," Frodo said. "I was remembering a particular nasty instance where the Fellowship was attacked by Orcs. I was speared by a cave troll, but luckily I was wearing Bilbo's mithril coat. Sam was injured with a cut to the head. But we ran into a Balrog. Sometimes these memories become so real it is as if I am physically transported back there, crouching in the dark, waiting for battle to begin. All I have to defend myself is my sword, Sting. I feel so guilty knowing that Sam or Merry or Pippin, or any of the Company is willing to sacrifice their lives in order to save me. Or worse yet, waiting for Gandalf to fall into the abyss again with the Balrog."  
  
Frodo swallowed a lump in his throat and closed his eyes. After a moment, he continued.  
  
"Boromir is holding me against my will. He has me off my feet. He is holding me tight so that I almost cannot breathe. He won't let me run back and help Gandalf. I remember screaming and fighting Boromir to put me down. But Boromir would not let me go. I hated him at that moment. I never really trusted him on the journey, but right then I hated his strength and his level-headedness. He was right, but I did not want to hear it. Really, there was not anything any of us could do against a Balrog. Not even Legolas. But I wanted so badly to run back to Gandalf. I did not know what I would do without him. It was all so hopeless after that. So hopeless."  
  
Iris let him talk at his own pace, gently combing his hair through her fingers. They did this often on their walks. Iris asked quietly, "Frodo, what's a Balrog?"  
  
He sighed. "It is a demon from the First Age. A servant of Morgoth. Not really under Sauron's control, since they were at the beginning of the First Age along with Sauron. They are great demons of fire and smoke and fear, made of the elements of darkness and destruction. I did not know about them until one came after us in Moria. The Dwarves of Moria delved too deeply and accidentally let it out of its underground prison. It killed the Dwarves and even terrified the Orcs. Legolas knew what it was. I guess he or his father fought against one or saw some in the great battle of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves in the First Age. I know Bilbo wrote some about that battle. He mentioned that Lord Elrond was at the battle too, and there were Balrogs there. The one that attacked us exhaled fire and smoke and poisonous air. It shook the very roots of the mountain as it walked. It had a whip of burning gold and red fire. That is what trapped Gandalf and pulled him into the abyss - that whip. Did you know that Gandalf actually died there fighting the Balrog?"  
  
"No, I didn't know," Iris said. "How is that possible? You said he and the eagles rescued you and Sam from Mount Doom. How is that possible?"  
  
"Gandalf told us he was sent back," Frodo replied. "That was the first time I was absolutely sure as to exactly what he is. Gandalf is an Istari, a servant of the Valor. He was sent from the Far West to Middle-Earth to help contest the power of Sauron. But the Balrog was an equal match to his strength and battled him until both were killed. However, since Gandalf is an immortal, the Valor sent him back to complete his mission. He was sent back this time as Gandalf the White instead of Gandalf the Grey. His true powers were finally unleashed. And to think I used to joke with him and hide his pipe when I was a young hobbit-lad."  
  
"If he's so powerful, why did he even bother with hobbits?" Iris asked.  
  
"He likes hobbits," Frodo smiled. "He has told me so on more than one occasion. We are not smart and lofty and immortal like the Elves. Nor are we clever and crafty and tough like the Dwarves. And we are certainly not strong and brave and sometimes cruel like Men. But he has a fondness for our small-town peaceful plain-speaking ways. He does not have a home. But I think he feels most at rest when he is in the Shire. Here he is only known as an old man who does wonderful fireworks and temps young hobbits into adventures. He can leave his terrible responsibilities elsewhere and just relax here. He can sometimes find peace here."  
  
"Are you talking about Gandalf, or about yourself?" Iris quietly inquired.  
  
Frodo didn't say anything for quite some time. "We are more alike than I realized."  
  
"What's going to happen to Gandalf, now that the War is over?" she asked.  
  
"He will sail West with the Elves soon. The Elves are leaving Middle- Earth, you know? All of them. All the beautiful work they accomplished using their three Rings of Power has now come undone. They are fading, and soon they will abandon Middle-Earth to Men. Their time has passed. And all their accomplishment will turn to dust and ruin. They will probably be forgotten or turned into legends as memories of these events and times fade as well. Even now most hobbits have never seen an Elf. Some believe them to be imaginary beings. They will become little more than stories soon."  
  
"That sounds so sad, Frodo," Iris said.  
  
"It is somewhat sad, but the Elves fully knew this would be the outcome if the One Ring was destroyed. They accepted their fate."  
  
Frodo stared darkly into the shadows of the leaves in the overhead tree. His voice took on an edge of anger. "You should not feel pity for the Elves. They can leave and go to a better place than here. They have a peaceful, unspoiled home across the Western Sea awaiting their tall ships. And Gandalf accomplished his mission. He can return to the West fully satisfied and whole. He and they can leave anytime they desire. They are not subject to disease and death. And their sufferings and pains are healed across the Sea."  
  
Suddenly Frodo sat upright, fists clenched. Tears of anger suddenly appeared in his eyes.  
  
"I am the one who ends up wounded!" he cried in frustration. "Why me? Why was I the one chosen? Gandalf would not even touch the Ring! He knew what it would do to a mortal. It was too great a temptation for even an Istari. Galadriel refused it also. Why was it given to me?  
  
I wish this thing had never happened. I would not be so tormented now. It has been over a year since the Ring was destroyed, yet I am still haunted by it. I feel its weight around my neck. I carried that thing of evil for so long I do not think I shall ever be free of the lust for it. It is still whispering terrible things in my head."  
  
With that outburst Frodo stood up and strode back towards the road. Iris hurriedly gathered up their packs and walking sticks and ran after him. But he had disappeared from view by the time she reached the road. Laying the packs and sticks aside, she calmed herself and stood very still. Her quick thinking was rewarded. In the still afternoon air she heard sobbing coming from back down the roadway.  
  
"Frodo?" she called out. There was no answer.  
  
She found him sitting in the mud with his back up against a deep rut along the road. He had his knees drawn up, his head bowed down and his hands in his hair, crying. She squatted down beside him in the road. He was utterly miserable.  
  
"Frodo. Your feelings are real and your pain is real. It hurts! You've been terribly wounded. But what you just told me is the most important thing you've ever said to me. This is the type of thing you need to say out loud so that you can hear it, understand it, and then deal with it. Your anger, your frustration, your torment. This is part of the healing."  
  
Frodo's look was full of black despair. "Iris, I am so afraid of myself. There are times when I think I cannot control my own body. I have little control over my own thoughts. I have been fighting the evil of the Ring for so long I do not know how to stop. I am afraid I will do or say something bizarre around Sam, or around Rosie, or even in public. What would they think of me? Oh, Elbereth, what can I do?"  
  
"You're doing it right now," she said. "You're talking about your feelings. This is another crisis and you're pulling through it. You'll live through this day and you'll be better able to handle tonight and tomorrow. Now come. Let's get off the road. We'll return to that little glen and let you calm down."  
  
They climbed up out of the rut and returned to where Iris had dropped the packs. Picking up their gear, they silently walked to the oak tree in the glen. There, Iris made Frodo lie down on the ground on his back. She sat herself cross-legged behind his head. He had regained control of himself now, but was still clearly agitated.  
  
"I'm going to teach you a relaxation technique you can use to calm yourself whenever you need to," Iris said. "Place your arms away from your body. Close your eyes. Now breathe slowly from deep within. Don't use your chest or shoulders. Breathe in through your nose. Now slowly exhale through your mouth. Spread it out over a count of five. Now, breathe in again, slowly. Good. Exhale. Again. Slowly in. Exhale. Think of a calm, tranquil place. Breathe in. Relax. Exhale. Calm your mind. Your body is floating on a bed of warm air. Breathe in. Relax. Exhale. Release all your muscles and let your breathing become the only thing you're aware of. Breathe in. Relax. Exhale."  
  
Iris continued her calm, soothing sing-song monolog. Frodo's breathing became very calm and regular. After awhile, Iris stopped her talking. Frodo had dropped off to sleep.  
  
The sun was setting, sending out golden rays through scattered clouds of salmon, pink and dusty purple. Iris twisted around and reached for her water container. The slight movement awakened Frodo. He raised himself on one elbow and turned around to look at her.  
  
"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.  
  
"Only a few minutes," she replied. "You needed it. How do you feel now?" She handed him the water.  
  
He sat up, crossed his legs and took a sip. "Better, but rather tired. I would rather not continue. Let's go back to Hobbiton now. I do not think I could bear much excitement tonight."  
  
"Before we go let's revisit what happened today," she said.  
  
"I really do not want to," he protested, shame clouding his handsome face.  
  
"Well you're going to anyway, Mister Baggins," she replied firmly. "So just sit there and listen for a moment.  
  
You've finally confessed to being angry at having to bear the responsibility for carrying the Ring. Frodo, no mortal could have born that burden as long as you did without being horribly affected by it. Remember, you yourself said that not even the Immortals would touch it. But you carried it. You were responsible for it for years. But you were strong. You've resisted its evil. And you survived, but not without a terrible price. Frodo, no one expected more from you. And you have a right to feel angry and abandoned. But you are not alone. You have Sam and me and Merry and Pippin and Rosie and all of the Shire to help you heal. You've taken a very great step today in confronting your anger and torment."  
  
"Ah, but Iris," he sighed, "It is so painful. And I feel so out of control when these memories come back to me. And I am afraid I will never be free from the pain."  
  
"Yes, it is painful. It's painful and wretched. But you must face your terrible memories. I'm here with you. That's why you have friends. You know Sam would give his life for you. He doesn't have to know what you're going through if you don't want him to. I think you should, but that decision is up to you. It should be a comfort just to know Sam's there for you when you need him. We are all here to comfort you and to share our strength. Once you've talked about your inner demons we can face them and overcome them together. Even Beren One-Hand could not continue without Luthien.  
  
As for feeling out of control, try using the deep breathing technique when you feel you need it. You don't have to be lying down, nor does it always lead to sleep. Just concentrate on slowing your breathing down to calm yourself and regain your composure."  
  
Frodo reluctantly nodded, stood up, and helped Iris to her feet. They remained facing each other holding hands as the sun sat. Then they re- shouldered their packs, picked up their walking sticks, and returned to the road.  
  
Frodo was exhausted now, as if he had been fighting something all day and suddenly the battle was finished. He and Iris walked back to Hobbiton in silence. As they rounded the Hill and headed towards Bag End, Frodo clasped Iris's hand and stopped her. He reached out to caress her curls in his wounded hand as they stood in the twilight.  
  
"Iris," he said, "I never expected to cause you so much trouble. And I certainly never wanted to inflict my personal thoughts onto anyone. Perhaps we had best stop these walks."  
  
"No Frodo," she said, "don't do this. I'll not allow it. You've made a great breakthrough today, even though you might think it to be a set-back and are embarrassed. Let's continue. You're doing so well. You're getting out a bit now, and I know you've started writing in that book of yours."  
  
"I felt like an idiot today," he confessed. "Rambling on about things. Talking about Gandalf that way. Crying. Iris, this is incredibly embarrassing."  
  
"But do you think it's helping you cope with what happened to you?"  
  
"I do not know. Perhaps."  
  
Iris took his hands in hers and forced him to look her directly in the eyes. "Frodo, sleep on it tonight. Think about how far you've come in such a short time. And practice the deep breathing as you're lying in bed ready for sleep. See if you have a nightmare tonight or not. I'll come over tomorrow morning and we'll decide how to proceed then. Can you promise me you'll do that tonight?"  
  
"Oh, all right," he finally said. "Just for you."  
  
And with that they traveled past Bag End and down into Hobbiton. After dropping Iris off at her house, Frodo climbed back up the little hill and went inside his home. He wasn't hungry, only thirsty, so he skipped both dinner and supper and had a couple of glasses of wine. That night he took a long, hot bath and lay down for sleep. He was exhausted, but sleep would not come easily. His mind kept wondering about where Gandalf was and when he was going to pass over into the West. He wondered if Gandalf would stop by Bag End before he left. Whether it would be best if he himself should also pass into the West along with the Elves and Gandalf. Sleep would be a long-time coming if he could not calm down his mind and stop his stomach from clenching. Then he remembered about the deep breathing and relaxing exercises he had done earlier in the day.  
  
"It certainly couldn't hurt to try," he thought out loud. In about thirty minutes he was asleep. 


	24. Early Summer

Chapter Rating: PG (pipeweed smoking) Chapter Title: Early Summer  
  
May 16th  
  
The next day Frodo was up and about early. He had no intention of the doctor coming over again and finding him asleep. The day was overcast and threatening rain. After the mantle clock chimed ten the front door bells jingled and there was a knock at the door. It was Iris, as expected. She was wearing a light grey cloak to keep out the misty rain, and had brought a covered basket of fresh-baked scones with her. The bakery next door to the Hobbiton Apothecary was back in business.  
  
Frodo invited her inside for a late second breakfast. Iris sat down as they shared some tea and scones. Frodo took tea, but declined the scones.  
  
"Where's Sam and Rosie?" Iris asked, noting the silence in the house.  
  
"They are visiting the Cotton's today and tomorrow, getting a few things of Rosie's we forgot," Frodo replied. "They will return tomorrow evening. That gives me a little time to do some washing. I need to clean up the guest rooms before they return. Merry and Pippin did leave their rooms a bit messy."  
  
That was actually an understatement. Merry and Pippin hadn't left the Bag End guest bedrooms too bad off, but they certainly needed airing out and all the sheets washed. Sam and Rosie were too busy with sorting out their belongings to pay much attention to the guest rooms.  
  
Frodo stopped talking and absentmindedly stirred his tea, lost in thought.  
  
After a few awkward minutes, Iris finally asked, "Well, how was your sleep last night?"  
  
"Oh, sorry. Guess I blanked out for a moment there. I had trouble clearing my mind last night as well," Frodo replied. "I eventually tried the breathing exercise you showed me yesterday, and I really cannot remember falling asleep after that. No nightmares either. But I am very tired today and my stomach is a bit upset."  
  
"That's normal," Iris assured him. "I'm not surprised you feel exhausted after an intense emotional session. You're doing quite well. Just take it easy today. If you feel up to it, work on your book. Put down your thoughts onto paper. No strenuous physical activity like putting in a floor or doing two rooms of laundry. Puttering around in the garden is fine though if the rain lets up."  
  
"No, no." he laughed, "that is Sam's domain and I dare not trespass! He is extremely jealous of that garden. He tells me I have a brown thumb for gardening, and I trust his judgment on that. His Gaffer would never let me garden either! Besides, I had already decided to work on Bilbo's book today. There is a tremendous amount of organizing to do on his notes first. Bilbo had also written and collected a lot of poetry as well. I would love to have you read through this as I get it written. I know I shall have Sam read it too.  
  
In fact, Sam will probably have to write some sections of it himself. Significant things I was not aware of, but which have relevance to the history. And I am sure I am going to have to do extensive interviewing of Merry and Pippin in order to archive their activities during the War. We were completely separated from each other during most of the months we were away.  
  
Merry and Pippin were witnesses and even instigators in some of the most important actions during the War. They have told me quite a good deal of their trials, but I need to re-hear their stories and take better notes this time. And there are some things Merry is quite reluctant to talk about. I shall have to be patient with him. If I push too much he closes up and drowns himself in ale. Pippin is fine, but Merry needs more time to think about things.  
  
I might have to travel down to Gondor and interview the King and Queen as well. Perhaps I should go to Rivendale again before the Elves leave. It is going to take me a long time to write all this down, organize it, and get it copied out properly. But would you be interested in helping me by reading through sections and giving me your reviews?"  
  
"I would be honored," she replied. "I'm so glad you and the elder Mister Baggins care enough about history to record this all properly. Not enough hobbits care about what goes on outside the Shire. But you are in a unique position to tell this story, and I'm grateful that you're writing about it."  
  
"There are historians in Gondor and bards in Rohan who have already written and composed lays and poems about the War," Frodo mused. "I should include some of those as well. That way us hobbits will be exposed to more ideas from other cultures in Middle-Earth. We are such an insulated race. Hmmm.I should send a message down to both places and ask for copies of their stories and lays."  
  
"Well, I see you are going to be quite busy for some time," Iris said as she stood up. "I'll be getting on now, if you'll excuse me." Frodo quickly stood up and escorted her to the front door.  
  
"Thank you for everything you've done for me," he said as he placed her rain cloak about her shoulders and opened the green circular front door.  
  
"One thing though, before I go," she said looking directly into his wonderful blue eyes. "Shall we continue our Friday walks?"  
  
"Yes, let's," he replied. "And thank you for the scones. I shall try them later."  
  
"Oh, and another thing," Iris said, "I am going to have Sam grow you some special pipeweed in the garden. It's the same herb I had you smoke last March. I want you to smoke a bowl or two of it whenever your stomach is upset, or if you have lost your appetite. Don't let anyone else smoke it, as it is a medicine. I'll send some seeds over tomorrow after Sam's back. Until then, Tandy has some of the herb at the Apothecary. Come down and get it.I'll have some reserved for you."  
  
"All right and thank you again," Frodo waved her goodbye.  
  
She smiled and went out the gate and down the road towards Hobbiton. Frodo watched her walking down Bag Shot Row for a few minutes, mindless of the misty rain falling. Either she was going to be a tremendous problem for him, or else the best thing he'd ever found. With that he went back inside and started his work for the day.  
  
Mid-year's Day  
  
"Gentlehobbits one and all! May I have your attention, please?" Mayor Will Whitfoot bellowed at the top of his lungs as he climbed atop an overturned apple crate. When that didn't stop the loud chattering among the extraordinarily large crowd, Frodo signaled Merry by elbowing him in the ribs. Merry let out a large blast on his silver bugle, bringing an instant quiet to the celebration.  
  
"Thank you, Captain Brandybuck," the Mayor continued. "Ladies and gentlehobbits.lads and lasses. It is my distinct privilege and honor to declare the Free Fair of 1420 open!"  
  
Earlier in the morning a special ceremony was held in front of the Green Dragon Inn, whereby Frodo resigned his position as Deputy Mayor, and Will Whitfoot was reinstated. The doctor had declared the Mayor fit for public duty, much to Frodo's relief. He could now retire to the privacy and relative peace of Bag End without any more expectations being placed on him to participate in Hobbiton society. This was a great liberation to Frodo as he needed more time to deal with his slowly declining health. That, plus the strange dynamics of suddenly living in a household with Sam and Rose.  
  
Hundreds of families from around the Hobbiton area were in town for the annual Free Fair and public celebration. All the Hobbiton and Bywater public and private buildings were in prime shape, having been recently rebuilt or renovated. The Green Dragon Inn had reopened its doors to its loyal public on May 6th, much to the delight of all the Hobbiton residents and travelers such as Pippin and Merry.  
  
The business district gleamed with gaudy banners and festive ribbons. Vendors of all manner of goods lined the streets and spilled into the Party Field. Carved and painted fantastical wooden toys from Dale, smoked meats and sausages from Bree, venison jerky and rare evergreen trees from the North Farthing, musical instruments and books from Micheldelving, fine cotton cloths and wine from the South Farthing, and even imported exotic honeys all the way from Ithilien in Gondor were offered in tents and booths. Few hobbits knew where Ithilien or even Gondor were, but that made the goods even more exotic in their eyes.  
  
The most popular items at this year's Fair were short swords made by the Hobbiton blacksmith. Even in the midst of revelry the hobbits could not forget the previous year's terrible troubles. They would not be caught unawares again.  
  
Out in the back portion of the Party Field the livestock show and auction took place. Sheep shearing contests, sheep dog trials, pony and cart races, contests of strength and agility, archery and slingshot contests, and judging of the best homebrew and pies were held in the fields, or in large pavilions on the green. It was the largest and finest celebration offered in the Shire, and folk came from miles around.  
  
In previous Free Fairs the occasional Dwarf from the Blue Mountains or Big Folk from Bree operated booths selling their exotic wares. But this year's celebration was an all-hobbit affair. Unbeknownst to most Shirelings, the King of Gondor and Arnor had declared the Shire to be 'off-limits' to Men for the Big Folk's own protection, since the hobbits were still keenly aware of the ill-treatment they had received from Men under Sauruman's occupation. Hobbits like Freddy did not forget or forgive past wrongdoings.  
  
Word had spread around the rest of Middle Earth about the fierceness of the hobbit's ousting of the ruffians. The Men of Gondor and Rohan had seen for themselves the courage, determination and selflessness of Merry and Pippin during battles. And listening to the new songs glorifying Frodo of the Nine-Fingers and Samwise the Faithful left no doubt as to the resourcefulness and unquenchable resolve of the race of halflings. Leaving the hobbit populace alone to govern their own affairs was agreed to by the King of Gondor, the King of Rohan, and even the Elf-lords. As to what the Dwarves thought about the hobbits, no one knew and the Dwarves were not telling. But they also avoided traveling through the Shire after the War.  
  
Sam had placed a special "No Tramping" sign and white picket fence around the young flowering mallorn tree in the center of Party Field, and jealously stood guard over it throughout the day. Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Rosie and Freddy spelled him occasionally so he could enjoy the festivities, but he never wandered too far from 'his' special tree. Any mischievous youngster who tried to slip inside the picket fence received a quick swat with a willow branch as a reminder to keep their hands off the golden flowers.  
  
As twilight deepened into night, Frodo returned to a silent Bag End. Sam had vowed to spend the night at the base of the mallorn tree, defending it with his life if need be. Rose had packed the two of them a couple of bedrolls and extra food for the night watch. Merry and Pippin were spending the night at Bag End with Frodo, but they wouldn't be arriving until the wee hours of the morning, knowing their fondness for the lasses and the availability of all the homebrew in the tents. Bag End was an island of peace and tranquility overlooking the music and merriment ongoing in Party Field.  
  
Frodo sat alone outside on a bench which had been set into the stone wall separating Bag End from the road. He took out his pipe and lighted up a small bowlful of his medicinal weed. Ever since his problems on March 25th he had lost his tolerance for regular pipeweed, but the herb Iris had prescribed seemed to taste unobjectionable and certainly helped his increasingly poor appetite. He noticed he felt very relaxed after a pipe full, almost like drinking a couple glasses of wine, but without disturbing his sensitive stomach. His beer consumption had been reduced considerably as a consequence. A stray curl of smoke passed his lips and wafted away on the evening breeze.  
  
"Better not let Pippin have any of this," he idly thought. "Good luck, Mayor Whitfoot. When you finally retire, think of Sam. Best hobbit in the Shire." The night was young, but he felt old, tired and a bit achy. "Best go on to bed and leave a candle burning for the Captains," he thought as he turned his back to the view of the Party Field festivities. "I wonder if this is how Bilbo feels? I now understand what he meant when he said age was finally catching up with him." 


	25. Fatherhood

Chapter Rating: PG-13 (mild het. sexual situations, mild language) Chapter Title: Fatherhood  
  
Disclaimer: This chapter has a Frodo/OC (other character) liaison as well as Sam/Rosie interaction. If you're not into non-canonical situations, please skip ahead to the next chapter. If you want more detail about the Frodo/OC liaison, please read "The Swimming Hole" story, which takes place immediately prior to this chapter. It's Subject=Humor, Rating=R, Main Character=Frodo B. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
July 21st  
  
Frodo awoke to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Rosie was busy with second breakfast already. Sam was all ready out in the vegetable garden working. Frodo had slept late. His sleep had been disturbed by nightmares and he was not rested.  
  
He had again dreamed of being attacked by Gollum on Mount Doom. They were struggling at the stony ledge leading to the river of molten lava. Gollum appeared as a grey specter of lust and desire for the Ring, fighting Frodo with unnatural strength. His hand! Gollum had him in a deadly grip and was slowly bringing his hand up to those sharp teeth! He tried to resist, but even with the power of the Ring his physical strength was completely spent. Gollum had him! The Ring had him! There was no escape from either of them. Now Gollum had Frodo's ring finger splayed away from the other fingers on his right hand. Snap! Aaarrrggg! The pain! It's gone! And he suddenly awoke in a sweat. Frodo was actually surprised to find his right hand was not bleeding when he opened his eyes. It seemed so real. At least he hadn't awoken screaming like the last nightmare.  
  
"Perhaps if I write about this I can get it out of my head and onto paper," he thought as he got dressed and went into the kitchen.  
  
"Good morning, Rosie" he said.  
  
"And a good morning to you, Mister Frodo," she replied, mentally noting the dark circles under his eyes. "You're several hours too late for first breakfast, but Sam will be here shortly for second. Care to join us? I've some nice muffins and jam. There's a pot of fresh tea on."  
  
"Thank you," he absentmindedly said. "I shall take my breakfast in the study. Rosie, you know I am never going to get used to your early hours. A farmer's schedule is not for me."  
  
"I know, Mister Frodo," she smiled. "We're still farmers and gardeners and will always be up with the roosters and to bed with the sun. You're one for bein' the night owl here. It just takes me a bit of gettin used to your late night stirrings and all."  
  
"Oh! I am terribly sorry if my wanderings are disturbing you and Sam at night," Frodo said as he picked up a muffin and a mug of tea. "I shall try to keep it quite." He was concerned that Rosie suspected there was more to his late-night wanderings than just keeping late hours. If Rosie was awakened, then Sam would be too. Frodo knew that once Sam got suspicious, he would track it down the source of his suspicions until he was satisfied with an answer. "I shall have to be more circumspect," he thought.  
  
"Oh, Mister Frodo," Rosie said, "I didn't mean you were disturbing us. I'm just not used to folk staying up that late. You know, me being a farm lass and all. I always expect everyone to rise early. Pay no mind to me. Now eat your breakfast, love, before it gets cold." She always mothered him, even though she was at least fifteen years his junior. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed the attention.  
  
The day was already warm and muggy with a thick layer of grey clouds coming in from the south. But hobbit holes stay a fairly constant cool temperature year-round. Frodo settled into the comfortable chair at the writing desk. He set the muffin and tea aside and took up a stack of papers. But his thoughts were not on writing.  
  
Yesterday was so wonderful. He and Iris were out on their usual Friday afternoon walk, and they ended up making love under a secluded tree. It made him feel so young and alive. He could see how Sam was satisfied and fulfilled, having a loving wife and a family on the way.  
  
"What?" he suddenly thought. "Where did that idea come from? Is Rosie pregnant?" Frodo stopped and set down his papers. "Yes, I am certain she is pregnant. How do I know that? Sam does not know. I do not even think Rosie knows. How do I know that?" he wondered. Perhaps carrying the Ring for so long had effected him in more ways than he realized.  
  
Then another, more distressing thought occurred to him. "Gad! What if Iris is pregnant? How could I have been so stupid?" At this thought he actually stood up out of his chair spilling papers everywhere. "I have got to see her right away!"  
  
He quickly put aside any thought of breakfast or work, grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Not paying any attention, he literally ran into Sam at full speed as Sam was coming up the walk. Carrots and pea pods went flying everywhere. Both hobbits were clinging to each other, trying to not fall from the force of the impact.  
  
"Bless me, sir," Sam exclaimed, "You're in a bit of a hurry."  
  
"Sorry, Sam," Frodo apologized. "I am in a hurry, but I should pay more attention to what I am doing. Here, let me help you gather these up."  
  
The two friends gathered the scattered vegetables into the large basket Sam was carrying. As they finished the hunt for the peas, Sam said, "I was just coming in for second breakfast with Rosie. Where are you off to this morning?"  
  
"Ummm. going in to Hobbiton," Frodo improvised. He didn't want to tell Sam the real reason why he was in such a rush to see Iris, but he couldn't think of a better answer to Sam's question right then. "Damn," he thought, "Sam's going to see right through that one."  
  
Sure enough, Sam's expression turned suspicious. "Well, if you say so, all right. But it's somewhere specific you're going. like maybe to see Miss Proudfoot again. You two are thick as thieves these days, if ya catch my drift. Not that that's bad, mind you."  
  
"And not that it's any of your business," Frodo replied tartly, then grinned.  
  
"Now, now, Mister Frodo, that was hard," Sam protested, shaking his head and lightly snickering. They both grinned at each other, understanding their private joke. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  
  
"Sam, I am in a hurry," Frodo said as he started down the lane. "I will talk to you later. Give Rosie a kiss for me. And make sure she does not do any heavy lifting." He disappeared around the bend.  
  
"Now what's that supposed to mean?" Sam pondered as he went into the kitchen.  
  
Frodo picked up his pace walking down the Hill to Hobbiton. The day was getting hotter and more muggy. A storm was brewing somewhere and would mostly likely produce a thunderstorm later in the day. He was getting warm in his coat and vest, but his vanity prohibited him from removing either while in public.  
  
Frodo had never been totally comfortable in just shirt and breeches like most of the inhabitants of the Shire, including Sam. Frodo always tried to look his best at all times, patronizing the tailor, selecting the richest cloths he could afford, and imitating his Uncle Bilbo's more formal style of dress. That, plus the rumor of Bilbo's ill-gotten dragon's gold secreted up at Bag End had produced much speculation about the riches of the Bagginses throughout the years. The truth was that Bilbo and Frodo had given away most of their wealth and Frodo had abandoned all of his possessions to go off on the Quest. It was ironically only through the kindness of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins that he had Bag End and its gardens again. Good friends Fatty, Merry and Pippin had ensured his furniture and belongings from Crickethollow were returned to him. Otherwise Frodo would have been a pauper.  
  
Hobbiton's market was active in the mid-morning air. Farmers, gardeners and craftsmen were selling their seasonal crops and goods out of the back of carts. A few ponies were patiently awaiting shoeing outside the new blacksmith shop. Hens clucking at their chicks coupled with squeals of delight from young hobbit children playing tag amidst the market stalls mingled into a cacophony of typical everyday rural life music.  
  
The Apothecary and Physician's Office door was open letting in the breeze. Tandy was helping a couple of young hobbit lasses in their tweens select perfumes. They stared at Frodo as he entered, then giggled and whispered behind their hands while continuing to stare.  
  
"Now girls," softly admonished Tandy. "Will that be all? That will be five pence please."  
  
The girls paid for their perfume and left the shop still giggling. Tandy rolled his eyes, shook his head and said, "Tweens. You never know what's going on in their little heads either. Especially the lasses. What can I do for you Mister Frodo?"  
  
"Is Iris around?" Frodo asked.  
  
"No, I'm sorry Mister Frodo, but my cousin's out at a patient's place right now. She said she would be back around lunch time. Would you like to leave her a message?"  
  
"Oh," Frodo stammered. "Uh. yes, please. If you have a quill and paper, I will leave her a short note. Thank you Tandy." It had never occurred to him that she wouldn't be in when he got here. What should he write? He had to see her face-to-face. Frodo ended up asking Iris to meet him at the Green Dragon Inn after supper. That seemed to be a nice neutral ground for a meeting - away from Tandy and away from Sam's well-meaning snooping.  
  
It was an uncomfortable walk back to Bag End. The day was getting more muggy and hot, and his mind was equally muddled. He came into the coolness of his study and put away his coat. Taking up his now-cold tea and stale muffin he let his tangled thoughts wander.  
  
What to do? Should he continue pursuing Iris romantically? What in the name of Elbereth was he thinking? Frodo knew in his heart that settling down to a normal quiet country life was out of the question for him. But he so craved peace and understanding and healing, and Iris represented all of those things for him.  
  
What was the best thing to do about Sam? Sam seemed to have made the transition from Traveler and Adventurer to respected gardener, husband and, soon, father. He and Rosie were incredibly happy together at Bag End. Frodo could see that every day. Rosie adored her famous husband, even if Sam was oblivious to his elevated standing in the Shire. There was one hobbit child on the way, and many more would follow. Bag End would be filled with children and love and laughter, but not from Frodo's own issue. Perhaps the best thing for Sam would be for Frodo to leave Bag End. That way Sam would finally be out from Frodo's shadow and would be free to grow into the generous and great leader he truly was.  
  
How did he know these things? It was a sure knowledge, not just a guess. It was as if some part of him was able to see things the way Elves perceived them. Time was a road, and he could glimpse further down the road that others. Gandalf and even Saruman had sensed this in him as well. It was confusing but it didn't feel at all unnatural.  
  
Frodo sipped the tepid tea. The house was silent save for the faint ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantle. Rosie and Sam were out working the vegetable garden, he supposed.  
  
With a start Frodo realized what he had just thought. He would have no children. He couldn't have children. This was a fact in his mind. He was as sure of this as he was sure that Rosie was pregnant. Why couldn't he have children? Was it because he was the Ringbearer and the Ring had changed him? But Sam also carried the Ring for awhile, and Sam certainly was capable of fathering children. "Samwise Gamgee - stud of the Shire," chuckled Frodo.  
  
Maybe it was the fact that Frodo carried the Ring for so long and so far - maybe it was this which had changed him. Sam only carried it for part of one day, and so escaped this evil. Frodo sighed. Maybe it was the poison still in his body. He would probably never know the full answer. But he was certain beyond any doubt that he would never father any children.  
  
There was a soft knock at the door. There stood Iris. Somehow she immediately sensed his melancholy. She stepped inside the hallway and into his arms. A hug was what was most wanted and most appreciated. Frodo took her hand, leading her into his study.  
  
"I got your note," she said, "but I didn't want to wait until tonight. I assume your visit was of a personal nature, considering yesterday."  
  
He smiled. Sometimes she could be so formal. He like that. It was his way as well.  
  
"I wanted to make sure you were all right with what we did yesterday," he said, stroking her brown curls. "I never intended to cause you distress. And I want you to know if we made a baby yesterday, I will marry you in a heartbeat."  
  
She smiled and kissed him. "Frodo Baggins, you are the kindest person I've ever met. I've thought a great deal about us since yesterday. And no, we didn't make a baby, I'm sure of that."  
  
"Would you like to try again?" he asked with a subtle smile on his face. She chuckled and stepped into his arms. As their lips united, Frodo's hands slipped down her back to caress her buttocks. She wiggled up closer to him, her hips pressed against his. Both his hands were now massaging her bottom.  
  
At that exact moment Sam and Rosie walked through the front door. Iris and Frodo were both startled. They quickly moved apart, but not before Rosie had walked into the room. She was carrying a large basket full of raspberries.  
  
"Oh, goodness gracious me," Rosie stammered. "I'm so sorry. I should have. umm. oh, please pardon the intrusion."  
  
Sam was standing at the entrance to the study leaning against a post. He had a smirk on his brown face. "Rosie, my dear," he said, grabbing her by the hand, "let's get lunch ready." Rosie was blushing beet red under her tan as Sam pulled her back out of the room. Frodo and Iris were also blushing furiously. As Sam turned to go into the kitchen, he caught Frodo's eye and winked. Frodo gave him a look that clearly said "Get out of here, you jerk."  
  
Frodo turned to Iris. "Will you stay for lunch?" he asked, clearing his tight throat.  
  
"Not if my life depended on it!" Iris replied. She was quite embarrassed to be caught like that. "How do you manage to live with Sam and Rosie under the same roof?"  
  
"You and your cousin Tandy live together and he is engaged," he pointed out. "And besides, I am actually quite used to multi-family dwellings. I grew up at Buckland Hall with about twenty families all under the same large roof. Granted, each family has its own entrance to the Hall, and each family has its own living area. But we shared communal kitchens, play areas, studies and bathing rooms. You get used to being discrete. Ummm, guess we weren't very discrete just then, were we?" He smiled and took her hand.  
  
"No, we certainly weren't," Iris said. "I would feel so awkward sitting down to lunch now with Rosie."  
  
"Come on," he said, pulling her into the kitchen. "Rose is no prude. It won't be that bad, I promise."  
  
They walked into the kitchen. Sam was sitting at the table, drinking a large mug of cold water and chewing on a wedge of cheese. Rosie was stirring a pot of something fragrant on the stove top. Both pointedly avoided looking at Frodo or Iris.  
  
Frodo placed himself between the table and the stove. "Rosie? Sam?" he asked. "I want to apologize to you and to Iris also, for putting us all in an uncomfortable situation. Please accept my apologies. We will try to be a bit more discrete in the future."  
  
Sam snorted so badly he spewed water out of his nose. Rosie put her hand up to her mouth and started giggling. Iris got tickled and started giggling too. Frodo suddenly grinned, crossed his arms and said, "Well, guess that settles that. What's for lunch?" He went over behind Rosie and peeked into the simmering pot. Sam roared with laughter.  
  
"Get your nose out of there, you nasty rascal you!" Rosie pretended to swat at him with the wooden spoon. "I bet you haven't even finished second breakfast, now have you? And have you brought the plates back to the kitchen? No. You may be fifty-one but you act like a tweenager."  
  
"Ah, Rosie my love," Sam said, "leave the poor old hobbit alone. He couldn't have brought the breakfast dishes in, now could he? Didn't you notice he had his hands full?"  
  
Another wave of laughter rang out from the kitchen. Frodo hugged Rosie from behind and gave her a quick kiss at the nape of her neck. He deftly ducked, but she still managed to whack his leg with the spoon.  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Mister Frodo, sir," Sam continued the jest, "but keep your roving hands off my wife, or I'll have to send a Sheriff over to re- arrest you for lewdness." Sam quickly snuck over to the stove and gave Rosie a grope on the buttocks, which caused her to whack him playfully with the spoon. He was nonplused and continued by reaching around and fondling her breasts. Rosie giggled some more and gave up trying to cook. Sam had both hands firmly cupping her breasts and she was trapped in his embrace. Sam kissed her neck as she laughed and tried to reach him with the spoon.  
  
"It is not the Shirriffs I am worried about, Sam" laughed Frodo. "It is your wife who is to be reckoned with. Rose is mighty fierce with that spoon. Maybe the Shirriffs aught to arm themselves with soup spoons in the future?"  
  
"Oh, you are all just too silly," Iris laughed, coming over to the stove. "Rosie, can I help with lunch, seeing as you're occupied at the moment?"  
  
"Sure, now that the lads are finished squeezing the melons for the morning," Rosie teased. She shot Sam a look which clearly indicated that further antics were expected later that night. Sam snickered and returned to his seat at the table. He had a smile on his face brighter than any of Gandalf's famous fireworks.  
  
After lunch Frodo escorted Iris back to Hobbiton. Even though the sky was now heavy and threatening with rain, and his stomach was giving him weird little pains, his spirits soared as on eagle's wings. 


	26. The Vial of Galadriel

Chapter Rating: PG-13 (adult situations, pipeweed) Chapter Title: The Vial of Galadriel  
  
March 11th S.R. 1421  
  
Frodo could feel the illness starting up a day earlier than last year. The numbness and cold in his left shoulder. The fire radiating out from his old wound. The way he couldn't keep anything in his stomach. It was happening again. He knew it was only going to get worse as the day progressed into the blackness of night. He had to get away from Bag End. He had to get away from Sam.  
  
Rosie was in the final weeks of her first pregnancy and Sam was driving everyone crazy. He was worried sick with anxiety about Rosie, about the baby, about Frodo, about the midwife, about everything! Sam was getting underfoot and making Rosie and Frodo extremely annoyed at his fretting. Tensions had been running high at Bag End all winter, and Frodo knew his own illness would only make Sam's behavior worse.  
  
Frodo decided the only place for him to go which would not arouse Sam's suspicions was Iris's house in Hobbiton. He had to leave immediately, as he was unsure just how long he could conceal his pain. It was already mid- afternoon, and the weather was turning cold and grey with rain-laden clouds.  
  
Frodo put on his traveling cloak and then struggled into his backpack, working around his tender left shoulder. "Sam? Rose?" Frodo called from the hallway.  
  
"We're in the baby's room," came the reply. It was Sam's voice. Frodo grabbed his hiking staff and headed back into the smial. He found Sam painting a wall while Rosie folded and stacked diapers. To Frodo's imagination she looked as if she was going to give birth to an oliphant. Maybe two oliphants. He had spent most of his life living with his bachelor Uncle Bilbo, or by himself, and had never lived with a female, much less a pregnant one. He had no idea a person could grow so large in such a short period of time. Her pregnancy was a constant source of amazement and worry to him.  
  
"I am off to Hobbiton for a couple of days." He tried to sound casual as he leaned in the doorway, concealing the horrible throbbing shooting out from his left arm. "I can be reached at Iris's place if you need me."  
  
Sam looked up from his painting and grinned. "Couple of days with Iris, eh? Not bad!"  
  
"Sam!" Rosie threw a stack of diapers at him, "Don't get smart with Mister Frodo. And don't you be insulting the doctor, neither!"  
  
Sam winked at Frodo and played the part of the innocent. "I don't think it's insulting to either of 'em. You run off and have a bit 'o fun now. Rosie and me will be fine. If anything exciting happens, we'll send word."  
  
Frodo went back into the hallway and out the front door. As soon as he was out of sight around the corner of Bag End Hill, he had to sit down and catch his breath. The pain was horrific and the effort of concealing it and putting on the backpack almost made him sick to his stomach. He took off the pack and opened it. He retrieved the Vial of Galadriel and put it inside his coat pocket. He left the rest of the backpack behind in the pony shed, hiding it under a bale of hay.  
  
Frodo's left shoulder was hurting terribly, as he knew it would. He was loosing control of his left arm again. The cloak would have to be removed temporarily, leaving him vulnerable to the cold, but it couldn't be helped. He created a make-shift sling out of a scarf and moved his aching left arm into the sling. He then covered the sling with his cloak. After a few minute's rest, he was ready to continue down the road to Hobbiton leaning heavily into his staff using his good right arm.  
  
What normally was a 30 minute hike from Bag End to Hobbiton took Frodo well over an hour. He finally made it to the Physician's Office as dusk descended. Iris had just returned from an all-night and all-day house call to one of the outlying farms. She was exhausted and hungry. But as soon as she saw Frodo she ushered him immediately into the patient's bedroom and began treatments as twilight deepened into darkness.  
  
"You are freezing cold!" Iris exclaimed as she helped him out of his cloak. She removed the sling and his coat. "You are going to have a full examination whether you want one or not. I am in no mood for an argument. Now, sit down while I get this room warmer for you."  
  
Frodo sank shivering into the chair without complaint. He was tired. So tired. He felt so cold. So worn. And the pain was terrible. "Well," he said as Iris was stoking the fire and bringing in candles, "at least this year I am not babbling about auras or calling you Gandalf."  
  
"Thank goodness for that," she said. She brought in a large bathing tub and some towels. "I have a feeling I am finally going to redeem my promise to help you with a bath. This is the quickest way to get you warmed up. so. take off your clothes, Mister Baggins."  
  
"You are joking, aren't you?" Frodo said through his chattering teeth.  
  
"I most certainly am not," she snapped at him as she started bringing in pots of water to warm in the fireplace. "Take 'em all off. And I do mean now." She handed him a bathrobe. "You may put this on while the water comes to temperature, but I do mean it. Strip."  
  
Seeing as she truly meant it, Frodo did as best he could being able to use only one hand. He had only gotten as far as half the buttons on his shirt when he had to give up. Iris saw him sink back into the chair as she was bringing in additional logs for the fire. His face was as pale as death. She dropped the logs and went over to his side.  
  
Frodo had not quite fainted, but had come very close. His breathing was ragged and his whole body was shaking. Iris finished unbuttoning the shirt and gasped at what she saw.  
  
Faint purple veins snaked under the skin on Frodo's neck and onto his chin and cheeks. It was the poison. Iris removed all Frodo's clothing and was horrified to see the poisoned veins all over his body. His left shoulder was icy to the touch where the wound lay. Iris expected that. But this time there was no cyst. She could find nothing requiring surgery or setting. This evil was deeper and more wide-spread than last year's attack. There was nothing she could do other than try to make Frodo as comfortable as possible and let his own body fight the poison. It was frustrating, but there was nothing more to be done.  
  
Frodo was in distress and didn't even care if he was naked or not. He could not stop the shaking. He could not get warm. Iris quickly wrapped him in the bathrobe, grabbed a comforter from off the bed and swaddled him in it.  
  
She drew a warm bath for him. She could always gradually add more hot water to slowly and safely raise the water temperature. Frodo needed all the help he could get to navigate his way into the tub. He could not use his left arm at all. Iris guided him to the bathtub, helped him out of the bathrobe, and settled him into the warm bath. As Frodo eased himself lower into the blessedly warm water, Iris carefully added more hot water to the mix. She draped a thick sheet over the tub, wrapping Frodo into a steam cocoon with only his head visible. He sighed and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the warmth. The pain was still there, but he was not suffering from the cold as badly.  
  
"Frodo, I'll be right back." Iris soon returned to the patient's room with an armload of candles, a metal pot, and a paint brush. As Frodo sat in the bath, she melted the beeswax in the pot, occasionally stirring it with the brush. The room filled with the fragrance of warm honey and summer's days.  
  
Frodo sat in the bath for a half hour while Iris bathed him with the blessedly warm water. He stopped shaking and even managed a light sweat on his forehead. But the left shoulder remained icy to the touch.  
  
"Frodo? Can you stand up? I need to get you dry and into bed."  
  
He tried to gain leverage by bending forward, and was rewarded by a sudden sharp pain in his gut.  
  
"I don't think I can stand at all, Iris," Frodo said through clenched teeth.  
  
"Here. Let me help. I'll support your left side if you concentrate on lifting with your right. Steady now.one, two, three and up we go."  
  
They managed to get him standing and out of the tub, but it was all he could do to keep from falling down. The pain was like fire spreading from his stomach and into his chest. Iris quickly toweled him dry and helped him into bed. He sank into the fresh sheets and tried to mentally unknot his stomach muscles.  
  
Iris pulled the comforter up to his chest, but kept the left shoulder exposed. As Frodo concentrated on controlling his breathing, she began painting the warm beeswax onto his shoulder.  
  
"Ah. That feels wonderful. It is so warm," he said. The pain was diminishing ever so slightly.  
  
"It's beeswax. It will maintain the moist heat for a long time, and can provide relief down into joints. When it cools off I can peel it away and re-melt it and reapply it as often as needed." Iris put away the beeswax. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked his curls. In only two years Frodo's once-raven hair was shot through with streaks of grey. "Where does it hurt this time? Tell me everything."  
  
"My stomach feels as if someone has shoved a knife in there. And, as you may have noticed, my left arm is useless again. But it is mostly my stomach this time."  
  
"Why didn't you send someone to fetch me?" Iris admonished him quietly. "There was no need for you to expose yourself to the cold."  
  
"I did not want to cause Sam more worry. Remember, Rose is due in only a week. Sam is frantic enough without having to tend to me as well. I just cannot do that to them. Not right now."  
  
"Frodo," Iris continued to stroke his hair, "there will come a time when you will have to tell them. They already suspect you are ill. Why don't you admit it to them and allow them to help? You are being very selfish in not allowing them the opportunity to care for you when you need it. There is no shame in your illness. We only wish to help you bear your ill health as best you can. Please, allow us the opportunity to show our love to you."  
  
"I promise I will tell Sam and Rosie after the baby is born," Frodo said.  
  
"Good. Now, I can give you a sedative like I did last time ." Iris said.  
  
"No," Frodo interrupted. "No sedative. I need to talk. Can you give me something to help my stomach and chest without making me sleep?"  
  
"Willow bark tea will only upset your stomach even more. Let's try an ointment on your chest first and then some mint tea." She returned with a yellow ointment smelling of sulfur and began rubbing it on his chest. While draping a hot moist washcloth over the ointment rub and letting its warmth sink into the chest, Iris steeped a mint tea.  
  
"Come now," Iris crooned, "try to get this down." Frodo tried taking some mint tea, but he could not stomach it and it quickly came back up. He was quite ill to his stomach.  
  
"All right," she mused, "if I can't get something into the stomach, perhaps I can get something close to it which might calm it down. Frodo? Do you think you could handle smoking something right now?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Iris brought Frodo some of his special medicinal pipeweed and a small clay pipe. Frodo sat up in bed and was able to tolerate the smoke. It seemed to lessen his pain and also settled his nausea. They sat and talked while he smoked. About an hour after beginning to smoke, Iris was able to get Frodo to keep some mint tea down. She had him smoke another pipe-full while he continued talking.  
  
"Would you look in my coat pocket and bring me the cloth pouch you will find there?" Frodo asked. Iris found the object. "Open it up and take out the vial inside." It was a clear crystal vial which suddenly lighted up the room when Iris removed it from its pouch. It was the light of a million stars and a million summer days. It was the light of life.  
  
"Oh, Frodo! What is it?" she was wonder-struck holding such magic in her hands.  
  
"It is the Vial of Galadriel. It contains light from one of the Silmarils, which themselves were jewels made to capture the light of the two blessed trees from the Undying Lands. It is the same light you see in the night sky in Elendil's star. The Lady of the Wood gave it to me while I was on the Quest. It saved my life many times. I plan on returning it to her when next I see her. It truly belongs to the Elves, not to me. It should be returned to the Blessed Realm. I just wanted you to see it before it passes out of Middle Earth forever."  
  
"The Elves are leaving?" Iris asked.  
  
"Yes," he replied. "They are all leaving. Their time has passed. The destruction of the One Ring caused the unmaking of all they built here in Middle Earth. But they knew it would do so, and chose to leave. Iris. I also have the option of leaving Middle Earth. As the Ringbearer, I can sail across the Western Sea to the Blessed Realm. They have offered me complete healing of this wound, and total peace if I decide to go with them. But I am unsure of what to do. If I go across the Sea, I would be the only hobbit there. The Blessed Realm is only for the Elves. Eventually I would die anyway. Should I stay in Middle Earth with my friends, or leave in order to be healed?"  
  
"Frodo," Iris said as she re-cloaked the Vial and placed it back inside his coat pocket, "only you can answer that question. Think on it. You have time for awhile."  
  
Frodo was getting sleepy from the combined pipeweed, warmth, and lateness of the hour. He began to nod off. Iris took the pipe from him, tucked him into the covers, and watched as he finally drifted off. She stayed with him through the night, sitting in a chair by the side of the bed. But the combination of her own exhaustion, the strong secondary smoke from the medical pipeweed, and the warm, moist beeswax smell of the room worked their own magic on her. She could not keep her eyes open any longer, and succumbed to her own sleep, sitting upright in the chair.  
  
During the early hours Frodo was awakened by a terrible sharp pain in his shoulder. His agony woke Iris with a guilty start. They managed to control it with another beeswax treatment. He finally went back to sleep. Iris tried to remain awake, but could not keep her eyes open, so she laid her head onto the side of the bed and fell asleep again.  
  
Towards morning, in the early twilight, Frodo awoke. He found Iris slumped forward in the chair beside his bed, her head and arms resting on top of the comforter and pressed against his leg. Frodo reached out of the covers and gently caressed her tousled hair. Iris awoke, momentarily unsure of where she was.  
  
"Come. Get in bed and warm up," Frodo said as he moved over to make room for her. She was so sleepy and confused she did what he said. She was fully-clothed but got under the covers with him anyway. She rested her head in the crook of his right arm, place her hand on his naked chest, snuggled up to his warmth, and was almost immediately asleep again. Frodo lay there enjoying her warmth and closeness as he held her sleeping body in his good arm. He couldn't help but play with her wild brown curls as she lay there sleeping.  
  
"What if I were to marry Iris?" he thought. "We would be a family like Sam and Rose. I would have her in my bed every night. Live a normal life again. To just be a normal hobbit in the Shire.  
  
But no. That can never be. I am not normal. The Ring has changed me too much."  
  
With a suddenness which almost made him cry out, Frodo realized he was slowly dying. The poison from the Morgal-blade in combination with the poisoned sting from Shelob was slowly eating away his body from the inside out. Each time he had a relapse it was worse. The good days were fewer and farther between now. He used to be pain-free for six days out of the week. Now he counted himself lucky to have one pain-free day a week.  
  
He was dying. It might take a year, or a few months, or perhaps several years, but it was a foregone conclusion. The day he had taken the poisoned stab wound was the day he started dying. Legolas had once privately told him that Frodo was the only person in history who had survived a poisoned Morgal-blade stabbing, and it was only by the grace of all Lord Elrond's healing skills that he had recovered. But since no one had ever survived an initial stabbing, no one in Middle Earth knew the long-term effects of the poison. It was clear to Frodo that if the Nazgul could not guarantee immediate stabbing to the heart, which would have resulted in Frodo's living death, then the poison on the blade would continue to eat away at the victim until death was inevitable.  
  
No. The idea of marrying Iris and having a family was now unthinkable. He would not shackle her to watching a husband die a horrible slow death. It would not be fair to either her or to any children which might come. No. There would be no children either. What kind of life would that be for her?  
  
Perhaps she could come with him across the Western Sea to the Blessed Realm? No. Mortals were banned from setting foot upon those shores reserved for the immortals. He had been given special dispensation as the Ringbearer, taking Arwen Undomiel's place, much to the eternal sorrow of her father, Lord Elrond. "I would be the only one of my race to ever set foot on those shores" he thought. "How could I live there, eternally separated from those I love? And I would die there as well. I am not immortal. I will eventually die. Best to die here where I am surrounded by my loved ones."  
  
Frodo decided to stay in Middle Earth and live out his shortened lifespan, no matter what. With his mind made up, Frodo fell asleep, holding Iris. 


	27. Point of View

Chapter Rating: PG (bit 'o pipeweed)  
Chapter Title: Point of View  
  
June 26th S.R. 1421  
  
"Twinkle little star on high,  
Kiss my baby, bye and bye.  
Wrap her in the firelight,  
Keep her safe and warm tonight."  
  
Frodo sang the old nursery rhyme as he nestled the sleeping child into her bassinette in his study. She was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. She had completely stolen his heart the moment Sam placed her in his arms the day she was born. The fact that Elanor Gamgee was not his child didn't matter in the least. Sam and Rosie's firstborn was more precious to him than life itself. Elanor defined all that was good and pure and innocent - and worth his sacrifice.  
  
"That's my darling," he whispered as he kissed her soft cheek and set the intricately-carved cradle gently rocking. He had commissioned two bassinettes to be carved out of wood from the now-deceased giant oak which once crowned Bag End Hill. Freddy Bolger had salvaged the wood, and Tomlin Chubb, the Hobbiton woodcarver had crafted them. The one in Frodo's study featured a prancing pony and a flowering mallorn tree. Its mate in Sam and Rosie's bedroom boasted twenty different carved flower varieties. They were Frodo's gifts to Elanor.  
  
Frodo gingerly sat down at his work desk, grateful for the strong mid-morning sunshine pouring through the study's large round window. Even wearing a medium-weight coat and vest, he was faintly chilled in the summer heat. He hadn't really been warm since his illness in March.  
  
Frodo found it now impossible to conceal his ever-growing symptoms. He was in constant pain and could no longer hide it from Sam or Rosie's sharp eyes. His stomach was particularly effected. Consequently, he was not eating as well, and was rapidly loosing what little weight was on his frame.  
  
Iris Proudfoot suggested to Rosie that spearmint would help settle Frodo's stomach. So Sam had constructed a beautiful window ledge herb garden outside the kitchen window. Sam had scoured the Shire to bring Mister Frodo a variety of mints - spearmint, peppermint, catmint and even rare lemon-scented mint. Rose used them in creating soothing teas for Frodo. She was becoming an excellent nurse, mixing Mister Frodo's special blend of powdered herblight, willow bark and honey into a somewhat palatable spread which he would tolerate on toast.  
  
"Twinkle little star on high,  
Daddy sings a lullaby,  
Shining down from up above,  
Gazing on his gift of love."  
  
Elanor yawned and kicked her perfect little feet, then settled down for her nap. She was an exceptionally beautiful hobbit child, with golden curls on the top of her head and on her tiny feet and toes. She was three months old. Her mother was busy in the kitchen making luncheon meat pies. Her father was out in the hot June sunshine, weeding the large vegetable garden beyond Bag End Hill. Sam would soon be home for lunch.  
  
Frodo eased into his chair at the work desk. He was engrossed in writing another chapter in his book concerning the Fellowship of the Ring when he heard the front door bells chime. After a quick glance to make sure Elanor had not been awakened, he grabbed his cane and answered the bells.  
  
"Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "Well, bless my soul!" Frodo was so delighted to see his old friend that he dropped his cane. He gave the tall, stately wizard a tremendous hug.  
  
"Frodo Baggins, my dearest hobbit!" Gandalf chuckled as he returned the hug. Gandalf's beard was just as long and white as ever, and his eyebrows seemed to be crawling up and over the brim of his pointed hat. He was dressed in a somewhat dusty white robe and had a silver scarf tossed around his neck.  
  
"Come in! Come in!" Frodo gestured the wizard inside the hallway. Frodo picked up his cane and took Gandalf's wooden traveling staff as well.  
  
"Using a cane now?" Gandalf asked with a touch of concern. This was something new. The last time Gandalf had seen Frodo was at the company's parting of the ways outside of Bree prior to Frodo's return to the Shire. That was only three years ago. Frodo had certainly changed physically, and not for the better.  
  
Frodo put away the staff, cane, scarf and hat.  
  
"Oh, just feeling a bit stiff today. Do come in, please. Have a rest while I get Rose." Frodo disappeared into the kitchen as Gandalf eased his too-large-for-a-hobbit-hole frame into the extra-width chair beside the cradle. Taking a sideways glance, he noticed a beautiful baby hobbit-lass with golden curls framing a heart-shaped face. She was fast asleep, her little red lips parted slightly and a bubble of spit forming.  
  
"Well, well! What has the old boy been up to?" Gandalf wondered.  
  
"Gandalf?" Frodo reappeared, leading a strikingly handsome hobbitess by the arm. "Do you remember Rose Cotton? She was at Bilbo's famous one hundred eleventieth birthday party." Frodo put his arm around Rosie's waist and pulled her to his side.  
  
"Oh, Frodo," Rosie blushed, "I'm sure Master Gandalf wouldn't recall me bein' there. He was all busy with them fireworks and all." Rosie disentangled herself from Frodo's grasp and curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, Master Gandalf. Frodo and Sam have told me so much about you, sir."  
  
Gandalf's eyebrows almost climbed off his head. Frodo could hardly suppress a smirk. Gandalf quickly regained his composure and stood.  
  
"And a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady," Gandalf said as he took her hand and gallantly kissed it. Rosie blushed even more furiously. "And you must be the mother of this lovely vision of innocence. She certainly favors her mother." Gandalf cast a significant look into the cradle, then a questioning look at Frodo.  
  
Frodo could stand it no longer.  
  
"No, I am not the father," he laughed, "thought I did have a good time having you on right now. Gandalf, old friend, please forgive my little joke. I put Rosie up to it too. The fault is all mine!"  
  
"Well, I would have never forgiven you if you had gotten married and not even invited me to the wedding!" Gandalf laughed.  
  
"Gandalf," Frodo apologized, "let me truly introduce you to Rose Gamgee, Sam's wife and the mother of Elanor Gamgee, the darling of Bag End."  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Master Gandalf, sir," Rosie said, "but Mister Frodo did put me up to his little joke." She gave Frodo a dirty look. "I hope you won't think ill of me for doin' so."  
  
"Not at all, not at all," Gandalf chuckled. "Not even a Wizard can fathom hobbit humor sometimes."  
  
Frodo walked over to the bassinette and gently picked up Elanor. The tiny baby scrunched up her face in displeasure at being awakened from her nap. A small wail began, quickly hushed by Frodo's soft cooing voice and rocking motions. Elanor opened her dark blue eyes and beamed a smile at her familiar Uncle Frodo. Rosie took the child and excused themselves to leave Frodo with his old friend.  
  
"What brings you out to the Shire?" Frodo asked as they both settled back into their chairs.  
  
"Oh, just passing nearby on my way to Rivendale. I was in Minas Tirith and rode up the old Greenway, which is now renamed the North Kings Highway. It's the path just outside of Bree. I decided to pop over and check up on happenings in the Shire."  
  
"If you rode up, then your horse must need looking after," Frodo said as he painfully stood up.  
  
"In deed, she will," Gandalf said as he also stood up and almost bumped his head on the ceiling.  
  
Frodo grabbed his cane again and the two headed out the front door. A lovely dappled grey mare was tied up to the gatepost and contentedly munching some of Sam's prized flowers.  
  
"Oh dear!" Gandalf said, "So sorry! Come along, Maggie. She's a wonderful horse when she's not stealing the nastursiums. Aragorn gave her to me to replace Shadowfax. He is running free across the plains of Rohan now that his service to me has ended."  
  
"I am sure his harem is legendary by now," Frodo commented as he led Gandalf and Maggie around Bag End Hill. A large communal fenced pasture was in back, housing several sturdy hobbit ponies. Two nickered and trotted over to greet Frodo.  
  
"Well, if it isn't our old friend, Bill," Gandalf laughed as he removed Maggie's pack and saddle and stored them in the shed. "He's looking fat and sassy in his old age."  
  
Frodo was patting a chestnut pony while holding onto Maggie's lead harness. "This is Strider. The same pony Aragorn gave me in Gondor. Sam often teams the two together for light hauling or plowing work, but most of the time they stay out to pasture. I do not go riding anymore." He opened the gate and Maggie went in. She towered over the small hobbit ponies the same way Gandalf towered over Frodo.  
  
Gandalf and Frodo left the pasture and headed back down Bag End Hill. Frodo was obviously leaning heavily on his cane to negotiate the downhill portion of the path. Gandalf thought about offering his arm to the hobbit, but checked himself before making the offer. "If Frodo wishes for help, he will ask for it," he thought. But it pained Gandalf to see his friend in such a state. Frodo was still only in early middle age and should not have been in this condition.  
  
They went into Frodo's study and sat back into the chairs. Frodo poured tea and then awaited the questioning. He knew it was coming.  
  
"Frodo," Gandalf started, "I had heard a rumor that you were not well, but, frankly my friend, I am rather shocked at your condition. You seem to have lost a lot of weight, which I know is not normal for any hobbit. And the cane? What is happening to you?" Gandalf didn't mention the grey hair and dark circles under Frodo's blue eyes.  
  
"Yes, yes ...I know ..." Frodo said. "Rose and Sam and Iris, my physician, are always trying to fatten me up, but it does no good. I cannot seem to keep any weight on. And, well ...we knew this would happen. It is something I live with now."  
  
"Frodo? Are you still in pain from the Nazgul wound?" Gandalf quietly asked.  
  
"It is not the wound itself," Frodo evenly replied, "it is the poison on the sword which is slowly killing me. The poison has worked its way into every part of my body. I will never be rid of it."  
  
He looked directly into Gandalf's eyes.  
  
"I am dying, Gandalf. It is not something I talk about much. I mean, what is the point in that? There is no cure for this. My physician and I work on treating the symptoms. She keeps me as comfortable as possible so I can continue my work. And my work is what is important to me."  
  
Frodo brightened considerably at his last remark. "What a blessing your arrival is to me! I am to the point in my book where I must interview you for some details. How long can you stay? There is so much only you can tell which must be written down. I must capture it so that history is not lost. So much. Please, please say you will stay at least a fortnight?"  
  
"No, my friend," Gandalf shook his head, "I cannot stay nearly that long. I must reach Rivendale by August. I can only stay a week, maybe less. But until I have to leave, you will have my undivided attention. Ask whatever questions you need to ask, and I will endeavor to answer.  
  
But Frodo, why don't you come to Rivendale with me? Elrond would do anything in his considerable power to heal you. He is the greatest healer in Middle Earth. He would do anything for you, surely you know that?"  
  
"I know," Frodo said, "but I must refuse. I will not be traveling any more. Gandalf, I am tired. I am afraid I would not survive the journey to Rivendale. I must finish my section of the book. That is my final task. No, I shall stay here where at least I am comfortable and have my work and my loved ones.  
  
Besides, it was Lord Elrond himself, and you, if I remember correctly, who said this type of wound would never completely heal. There is no healing for me in Rivendale."  
  
Gandalf could only nod his head. "Yes, that was said. But perhaps Elrond could relieve some of your pain again. If you truly wish to be completely healed, there is only one choice and one journey. That's the reason I am going to Rivendale.  
  
We are leaving Middle Earth soon, and will not return. The Elves and I will soon set sail from the Grey Havens with Lord Cirdan. We are sailing across the Western Seas to the Blessed Realm. Your place on the ships of Cirdan is guaranteed, as you were a Ringbearer. Will you not join us? You will find complete healing and peace there."  
  
Frodo brought out the white jewel he kept on a silver chain around his neck, and absentmindedly fingered it. "But could I ever return to Middle Earth after I was cured?"  
  
"No," Gandalf said, "No one is allowed to return to Middle Earth once they have seen the Blessed Shores. It is a one-way journey."  
  
"And I would be cured, but alone," Frodo said, looking at the gem, then at Gandalf. "It is a place reserved for the Elves, is it not? There are no other races there. None of my kind. No hobbits."  
  
"True," Gandalf tried to sound hopeful, "but you are renowned and beloved by the firstborn. You know many already there. Elrond and Galadriel are coming with me. We will be with you. You will have friendship and company and love."  
  
"But not of my own kind."  
  
The front door opened and in walked Sam. "Mister Gandalf! Bless my word! It's good to see you, sir!" Gandalf stood up, this time remembering to crouch down slightly so as to not bump his head, and Sam gave him a huge hug.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee!" Gandalf beamed. "Master Gamgee now! What a lovely wife and beautiful daughter you have. A blessing on your house and on your progeny."  
  
"Well, thank you kindly, sir," Sam politely replied. "If your blessings here are as good as that blessing you put on old Barliman's beer, I'm sure to be swimming in children and grandchildren!" Rosie walked into the study with Elanor smiling in her arms.  
  
"As your heart desires, so shall it be," Gandalf continued his blessing.  
  
"You might want to consult with the wife before giving that sort of blessing, Master Gandalf," she laughed. "Lunch is ready. Sam - best get washed."  
  
After lunch Sam and Rosie went out to work the fields. Rosie decided to take Elanor with her, as the baby would soon need to be nursed. Bag End was left to Frodo and Gandalf.  
  
"Come, Frodo," Gandalf said, "let's have a smoke."  
  
Frodo retrieved some of his medicinal pipeweed and his special pipe, and joined Gandalf outside in the rose garden overlooking the winding Bag End Row and Party Field in the distance. Gandalf entertained Frodo by blowing smoke rings of various colors and shapes, sending them off the hill or behind a flower or under the bench. Frodo smoked his pipe, letting its calming effects smooth aside the dull pain.  
  
"Pipeweed," Gandalf muttered as he sent a blue smoke ring spinning inside a yellow one he had produced earlier. "That's another thing from the Shire I'll miss."  
  
Frodo chuckled. Gandalf's actions suddenly reminded him of Bilbo. "Say, do you have any word about Bilbo?"  
  
"He is a truly amazing hobbit," Gandalf replied. "He's still going, but his days are very short now. He sleeps most of the time and occasionally composes poetry. He still sends some poetry down to the King for his comments ...Treats Aragorn just like the wild Ranger he used to be. But the King never fails to critically read Bilbo's sonnets and send back his notes to the old gent. But I am afraid Bilbo may not live to make the journey over the Western Seas with us. It doesn't seem to bother him. I believe Bilbo is the reason Elrond has waited this long before leaving. Bilbo is allowed to go to the Blessed Realm, as he was a Ringbearer. Sam may also make the trip, even though he only bore the Ring for a short while."  
  
"I think Bilbo is holding out until he has passed the Old Took's record," Frodo commented. "He always wanted to do that. Then he will lay down to rest. I miss him terribly."  
  
"Then come with me to Rivendale before it's too late," Gandalf pleaded.  
  
"It is too late for me already," Frodo wistfully replied. Then he stood, smiled, and took Gandalf's arm. "Come, my friend, I have work to do and you are going to help me do it. I want to hear all about your ride on Shadowfax across the wide plains of Rohan with Pippin as a saddlebag. Leastwise, that is the way Pippin describes it. Now I want your point of view." 


	28. Birthday Party

Chapter Rating: PG (angsty, adult situations, pipeweed use)  
Chapter Title: Birthday Party  
  
September 22nd S.R. 1421  
  
"Hey! Is the birthday boy at home?" Merry called out as Sam opened the front door. He and Pippin had ridden over from Crickethollow. It was September 22nd, the joint birthday of Frodo and his Uncle Bilbo Baggins. Frodo always held a private birthday celebration to toast his Uncle's birthday and his own. But this year Frodo was quite unable to plan the party.  
  
Iris had sent word privately to Merry and Pippin concerning Frodo's failing health. She warned them that this would be Frodo's last birthday party. So his good friends had decided to take matters into their own hands and arrange the party for him. They had, of course, run the plans by Sam and Rosie, who in turn, had run them past Frodo's physician. All was approved, and now the party was beginning.  
  
It was to be a quiet affair ... just the four friends who had journeyed together throughout Middle Earth, plus Sam's wife and infant daughter. Quiet and unhurried, as good times between old friends should be. Quiet and unhurried, so as to not aggravate Frodo's precarious health.  
  
"Happy birthday, Frodo!" Pippin cheerily sang out as he stepped through the door. "Where are you, you old grunt?"  
  
"In the living room," came the reply from further back in the smial.  
  
"Be right there!" Merry called out. He pulled Sam aside as Pippin ducked through the opening and went on in. "Sam, we brought over a barrel of Barliman's ale. Is Frodo allowed ale? I don't want to go offering it if he can't have it, you know."  
  
"Ale's fine if he wants it," Sam replied. "It's all up to him now. The doc says he can have anything he wants. If we can get him to smoke a pipe or two of his medicine later that'll help too. But go on and take the barrel on in to 'im. He'll be pleased whether he takes some tonight or no."  
  
Merry retrieved the barrel from outside. He shouldered it in past Sam, ducked through the lintel, and strode into the living room.  
  
Pippin was already sitting cross-legged on the rug, playing with the baby. Elanor was dressed in her party finery; a fluffy pink poof of a dress with yellow and green ribbons laced through eyeholes all along the bottom flounce. She had a matching set of ribbons in her golden hair. She was the center of attention in the room, and already knew how to work the crowd.  
  
Rose was sitting on the couch, watching Pippin tickle the baby as she laughed and kicked her legs. Frodo was reclining propped up in a great chair next to the fireplace, leaning against a pile of pillows, his feet resting on an ottoman. He was dressed for a party as well, wearing his favorite dark chocolate silk coat and vest suit with matching deep green paisley ascot and handkerchief. His legs were swaddled in a quilt, and an ornately-carved cane leaned against the chair within easy reach.  
  
If Merry hadn't have known Frodo, he would have assumed him to be an elderly gentlehobbit in a state of decline. Frodo's dark chestnut hair was shot through with grey and silver streaks. The suit helped hide some of his weight loss, but even so he appeared unnaturally thin. It was his face which showed his illness the most. His once-blue eyes now had a white film over the pupils, and dark circles under the eyes. But Merry and Frodo had grown up together out at Brandy Hall. Merry knew Frodo was only 53 today.  
  
"Merry, good of you to come," Frodo said. "What is that you've brought?"  
  
Merry set down the barrel. "Well, if Sam will get us all a mug, I'll pour you some of what I've brought." He went over and kissed Frodo on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Frodo. I've talked ole Barliman out of a barrel of his finest ale. Will you join us in a mug for old time's sake?"  
  
Sam paused on his way into the kitchen, awaiting Frodo's answer. You could never tell what he would or would not do these days. Sam had given up trying to anticipate Frodo's moods.  
  
"Yes," he said with a smile, "I'll have a glass."  
  
"Great! I'll be right back," Sam called out as he disappeared. He quickly reappeared carrying five mugs. Merry tapped the barrel, carefully placed one in Frodo's right hand, passed out the other frothy mugs, and proposed a toast.  
  
"Happy birthday, Frodo Baggins," Merry pontificated. "To the finest hobbit and dearest friend one could ever have."  
  
"Here, here!" Pippin seconded the toast and almost drained his mug in one gulp.  
  
Frodo raised his mug, "And least we forget, here's to Bilbo Baggins, who finally surpasses the legendary Old Took today. Happy birthday, Bilbo, my dear."  
  
"Here, here!" Pippin seconded the new toast, and finished his beer. "Merry ...I'm all out! Let's not be stingy with Frodo's gift!"  
  
As was the custom on hobbit birthday parties, the birthday person provided their guests with presents. Frodo knew about the party, of course, and had planned a special present for each of his Fellowship companions. With the help of Rosie, he had finished and copied out the first section of the Red Book started by Bilbo. The full Red Book was nearing completion by Frodo. He had each copy of the small book bound in beautiful red leather with a green ribbon bookmark, and had his Uncle's original title for the book embossed in gold letters across the front: "There and Back Again ... a Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins."  
  
He presented Merry, Pippin and Sam with their own copies.  
  
"For you, and your children, and your children's children," Frodo solemnly said. "Someday these histories may be viewed as simple legends or fables, only to be read to children on dark winter's nights by the fire. But we know them to be true. Read them to your children and keep the memories alive."  
  
"Mister Frodo, it's beautiful!" Sam's eyes watered as he looked at Rose. She smiled back at her husband. Sam knew the labor of love each book represented better than anyone else in the room.  
  
Frodo had not actually copied out the book himself. During the past month his eyesight had failed, so he recruited Sam and even Rose as his scribes. Many afternoons they would bring Elanor to sit in Frodo's arms as he dictated chapter after chapter to their capable care. On rainy days Sam would take over the task. Frodo was insistent that the work continue, no matter how terrible he felt. But Rosie was just as stubborn. She always had Elanor in the room whenever Mister Frodo was at work. She knew instinctively that Frodo couldn't resist playing and dawdling over her beautiful infant, and that was good for his health. Lately Elanor and Frodo had started taking afternoon naps together. Frodo needed the extra rest and actually slept better while propped up surrounded by pillows and with his beloved Elanor cradled in his thin arms.  
  
The party continued with dinner and more of the excellent beer. Frodo managed to eat most of his serving. He was eating less and less as the pain in his stomach increased from day to day. But this day was one of his rare good days when he was relatively pain-free. He was able to enjoy the excellent stew and squash bread Rosie had baked earlier in the day. Honeyed peaches and brandied cherries followed, along with a special spiced brandy Sam had been hording.  
  
The party moved back into the living room, with Rosie excusing herself, taking Elanor for nursing and then bedtime. Sam lead Frodo to his chair and arranged the quilt around his legs as the fragile hobbit painfully repositioned himself in the pillows.  
  
"A dinner as excellent as that deserves a good pipe as a finish," Pippin said. "Frodo, may I load your pipe for you? I understand you've got your own weed here somewhere."  
  
"It is in the pouch on the mantle," Frodo replied. "My pipe's right next to it."  
  
Pippin loaded Frodo's pipe with his medicinal pipeweed, then filled his own with Longbottom Leaf. He lighted Frodo's pipe and got it started for his friend, then passed it over to Frodo. Merry and Sam had already gotten their pipes going. Soon the room was filled with fragrant smoke and the smells of strong brandy, along with much talk and laughter.  
  
The party lasted into the wee hours of the night. Pippin sang several songs, with Merry and Sam joining in the choruses. Pippin's strong tenor had deepened into a lyric baritone since his sudden growth spurt. His excellent singing voice had only improved over time. Frodo liked to sing as well, but now lacked the breath support to do the songs justice. He occasionally supplied Pippin with new lyrics set to old tunes. Sam even contributed some of his original poetry. Sam was actually a good comic poet, with a flair for funny rhymes, but was usually too shy to recite in public. But in the privacy of his own house, with his best friends, and with the help of the brandy, he became quite animated.  
  
As the clock on the mantle struck midnight, Merry and Pippin took their leave. Frodo had started to tire, and they did not want to cause him additional stress. With Sam's support, Frodo walked Merry and Pippin to the door.  
  
"So long, Frodo," Merry said as he put on his cloak, "We'll be seeing you soon. Happy birthday, and thanks for the book." He kissed Frodo goodbye.  
  
"Yesh," Pippin slurred, "it's grand; real grand! Bye Sam. Don't keep Rosie up too late tonight." Pippin winked and planted a sloppy kiss on both Sam and Frodo, much to Sam's displeasure. Merry and Pippin staggered off down the road, laughing and singing arm in arm.  
  
"Sam," Frodo suddenly slumped, "take me inside." Sam helped him hobble into his bedroom, where Frodo sank into a chair.  
  
"What do I need to do?" Sam quietly asked. He knew Frodo was slowly dying and had finally come to accept the inevitable.  
  
Sam had turned over his work with the Shire's replanting to Nibs Cotton, and had vowed to remain at Bag End for as long as Mister Frodo needed him. The Cotton family had also been told of Frodo's condition, and they took over Sam's work at the Bag End Gardens while Sam and Rosie saw to making Frodo's final days as comfortable as possible. It was a private, non-spoken arrangement kept in the family. Frodo never knew.  
  
"I need some help getting out of these clothes," Frodo said. "My left arm has gone off again."  
  
Sam helped his master disrobe and climb into bed. Frodo sighed and drifted into an exhausted sleep almost immediately. Sam gathered the cast-off clothes and put them away. He kissed Frodo's cheek and pulled up the covers before going to his own bedroom.  
  
Rose had fallen asleep reclining against a pile of pillows she used while Elanor nursed. Both mother and child were fast asleep in bed, Elanor's mouth still on her mother's nipple. The room was warm and still, and smelled faintly of milk and roses. This was Sam's life. This was his joy. He picked up his daughter and moved her into her bassinette. He then shed his own clothes and crawled into bed beside his wife. They made love in the dark of the night.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Mister Frodo?"  
  
There was a knock on his bedroom door.  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
Frodo opened his eyes, only to be reminded that doing so was an almost useless gesture. "Come in, Sam," his voice croaked.  
  
"Will you be taking breakfast with us?" Sam asked as he entered the bedroom. Frodo was still in bed. It didn't look as if he had moved the entire night. Sam sat in the chair beside the bed.  
  
"No. I think I shall stay in bed today," Frodo replied. "I had a dream, Sam. Only, it did not feel like a dream. It felt so real. I was in Rivendale. Lord Elrond and Gandalf were in Bilbo's room. Bilbo was there in his bed. He was so happy. Galadriel came in and they talked for a little while. Then Bilbo closed his eyes and stopped breathing."  
  
Frodo blinked back unbidden tears. "He is dead, you know. Bilbo died last night after midnight. I felt it as Merry and Pippin were leaving." He wiped away a tear as it rolled down his cheek.  
  
Sam captured Frodo's hand in his. "It were the best, you know. He had a grand adventure and a grand life. He did what he set out to do. He outlived the Old Took. Now the old gent is at peace."  
  
"I will soon join him," Frodo whispered.  
  
Sam didn't know what to say.  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
September 23rd   
  
The Elves buried Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, Ringbearer, story-teller and Elf-friend, in a small rose garden underneath the window near his former room. Not being acquainted with hobbit burial ceremonies, they made up one as befitting one of such high renown. Songs were sung and poetry recited for several hours. A feast was held in his honor, and as the stars came out, they chanted the entire "Lay of Luthien and Beren One-Hand." It was Bilbo's favorite.  
  
The next day Lord Elrond, the Lady of the Golden Wood, Galadriel, and Gandalf the White set out for the Grey Havens by way of Hobbiton and Bag End. Galadriel had had a vision about Frodo, the Ringbearer. She urged them on with great haste. 


	29. Many Partings

Chapter Rating: PG (very angsty)  
Chapter Title: Many Partings  
  
October 6th S.R. 1421  
  
"No. I'll not have it. The three of you can't go in together. This is Mister Frodo's house and my house as well, and I'll not have you getting 'im upset or doin' anythin' unnatural like to 'im. I'll allow only one at a time, and either the doc or myself must be there with you."  
  
Sam bristled with barely suppressed anger. He stood outside the doorway to Frodo's modest bedroom at Bag End. Before him stooped three of the most important, dignified, and dangerous personages in all Middle Earth: Lord Elrond Half-Elven, Elf-lord and Master of Rivendale; Galadriel - the Elvish Lady of the Golden Wood of Lothlorien; and Gandalf the White, Wizard and chief architect of the destruction of the One Ring.  
  
All three were fellow Ringbearers, each openly wearing their appointed Ring of Power out of respect and love for the dying Frodo. Each was well over a thousand years old, full of wisdom and knowledge and power. Yet all were undone by the force of one lone hobbit's love and concern for the well-being of his friend. Sam would not let them into Frodo's bedroom.  
  
He was backed up by Rose, his wife, and Iris Proudfoot, the Hobbiton physician. The two normally-shy hobbitesses were quite willing to join Sam and take on the Elves and even the Wizard in order to protect Frodo.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee," Gandalf softly spoke, "my dear fellow, I do apologize. We will do exactly as you say. But we do wish to speak with Frodo while there is still time. May we see him individually?"  
  
"I would feel better if you waited in the living room," Sam said. "I'll see if Mister Frodo wants to see you or no. Dependin' on what he says, that's the way it's goin' to be. Even if he does want to see you, it won't be for no hours or nothin'. He's right fragile as it is, and I don't want you tryin' no magic or such on 'im. Understand?"  
  
"Understood, Master Gamgee," Lord Elrond replied in his deepest voice. "Come, Lady. Let us retire to the living room." Rose escorted the three tall guests back into the smial. Sam and Iris went into Frodo's room.  
  
Frodo was lying on his back in his bed, swaddled in the comforters, staring blindly into space. He knew he was dying. In fact, he knew this was probably his final day. He had stopped eating a couple of days previously. The pain in his torso was too hard to manage, and he didn't want Iris to try anything which would prolong his torture. He was now blind and paralyzed on his left side. But the pain was receding as his strength failed, and that was comforting. He didn't mind dying. Soon the pain would end. Soon he would find lasting peace. But there was still so much which needed saying to so many people.  
  
He heard the door open and someone enter the room. "Who is there?"  
  
"It's just me and Iris, Mister Frodo." Ah, Sam's voice. "You've got visitors outside. It's Gandalf and Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel. They want to see you. I told 'em you would have to say whether or no. Do you want to see them? If you do, I'm only goin' to let 'em in one at a time."  
  
"Oh, it is wonderful that they have come," Frodo whispered. Iris took a hand cloth, dipped it in a bowl of water, and pressed it to his mouth. This was the only way for him to drink. He sucked a bit of moisture from the cloth and continued. "Please have Lord Elrond come in. And I would rather it just be Elrond and myself."  
  
"Sir," Sam interrupted, "I know you trust 'im and all, but I'm afraid he may try something unnatural like on you. Might try to cure you or do something painful. If it's all right with you, couldn't Iris stay? That way we have a good hobbit doc in the room too."  
  
"All right, Sam," Frodo replied. "Please send him in. But Iris, do not interfere with him. I will handle this."  
  
Sam left and shortly thereafter Lord Elrond entered the room. He had been warned by Gandalf about Frodo's pitiful condition, but the shock of seeing the dying hobbit caused the Elf to momentarily hesitate. Elrond closed his eyes for an instant, then opened them to view in a different manner. Instead of seeing Frodo's physical body, Elrond concentrated on perceiving his spiritual life-force. Frodo was still there. He now appeared to the Elf as a vessel, full of light. Elrond came over to the bed.  
  
"Frodo, I know you are ready to depart. Yet I have one last gift to bestow upon you, if you will suffer it."  
  
"Perhaps," Frodo whispered, "but I am so tired now. This is not like the time when I was stabbed. I desire no healing if it would unduly prolong my life."  
  
Elrond caressed Frodo's grey curls. "I can restore your sight for a short while so that you may look upon the faces of those you love. This will cause you no further pain, nor will it prolong your stay here. It will not last very long, but it is something I wish to do for you, if you will allow it."  
  
Frodo blinked. He had not expected to ever see again. "Yes. Let us do it now, for I am near ready to depart."  
  
Elrond placed his hands over Frodo's eyes and began a low chant. Iris witnessed a light seeming to emanate through the Elf's hands and into Frodo's thin face, but otherwise Frodo did not seem to be in any distress. After about five minutes, Elrond whispered a blessing on Frodo and departed.  
  
Frodo slowly opened his eyes. The cloudy film which had covered them for the last couple of months had been removed. His eyes were his own normal wide-set deep blue eyes. He blinked slowly, turned his head to face her, and smiled.  
  
"Iris? Do you remember the time I showed you the Vial of Galadriel?" Frodo asked.  
  
"Yes," she replied.  
  
"It is in its pouch in the top drawer of my writing desk. Would you please bring it to me?" he continued. "And have Sam send in the Lady of the Woods."  
  
Iris retrieved the pouch with the precious light of the Silmaril and placed it beside Frodo's right hand. She then sent for the Elf-Queen.  
  
Galadriel floated into the room and immediately over to Frodo's side, followed by Sam. Iris had trouble looking at the Lady directly - her eyes seemed to penetrate into your soul and ask questions you couldn't even hear or begin to understand. Iris was nervous and backed away to the corner of the room. But Sam stood resolute at the foot of the bed, his hands on the bottom posters. He had met the Lady before and had passed her test. He was not afraid.  
  
Frodo looked at Galadriel and smiled. He no longer perceived her as a figure of power and majesty. He saw a lovely, slender Elf-maiden robed in golden light, weary of Middle Earth and longing for home.  
  
"Galadriel, retake the Vial of Elendil," he commanded. She complied without a word.  
  
"I return it to its keeper. It is not of this age and belongs in the Blessed Realm, as do you and all your kin," Frodo continued. Sam noted that his voice had changed. It was a voice of authority and might, despite coming from a frail and wasted body. It seemed to come from far away. "You may freely return. They await you with love."  
  
Galadriel spoke, "Who, Ringbearer? Who awaits me?"  
  
"The Noldor and the Valar. You have passed the test. The ban is lifted and your arrival is anticipated with joy. Go in peace."  
  
"How do you know this?" Galadriel asked with wonder.  
  
"I have become a vessel of their light, burning for a short while, then to be seen no more on Middle Earth." Frodo continued his blessing. "Be at peace, Lady of the Golden Wood. Become Galadriel again. Sail on with my blessing."  
  
She gravely bowed, placed her hand on his right hand, and brought it up to her lips for a kiss. She departed as Sam noticed a tear rolling down her cheek.  
  
Frodo sighed and closed his eyes. Iris came out of her trance and brought him the dampened cloth again.  
  
"Mister Frodo, sir, Merry and Pippin have arrived. But do you need to stop?" Sam quietly asked.  
  
"No Sam," he replied, "please send in Gandalf. And Iris, I do appologize, but it should only be Sam and Gandalf and I in the room now."  
  
Iris caressed his cheek. "Call for me when you need me. I'll be right outside."  
  
Gandalf had been prepared by Elrond, so he knew that Frodo could see again. The old Wizard came over to Frodo's right side and clasped his hand. Frodo smiled at him.  
  
"Frodo Baggins, my dearest hobbit. You go where I cannot. It is not given even to the Wise, to know where mortals go when they depart. But perhaps the song is complete in that place known only to Eru."  
  
"Gandalf, what will become of you when you reach the Blessed Shores? Will you become a star like Elendil?" Frodo asked. "Will I see you in the night sky?"  
  
"Frodo, my dear, I do not know. But whatever becomes of me, whatever becomes of you, I will be with you always and your thoughts in mine until the Seas and Mountains are no more. Until Arda itself ceeses."  
  
"Goodbye, Gandalf," Frodo said. "May you rest in the arms of the Valar."  
  
Iris came back inside the bedroom as a weeping Sam escorted Gandalf back into the living room. Rose had taken Merry and Pippin into the kitchen. Elrond and Galadriel stood up at Gandalf's entrance.  
  
"We are finished here. Let us continue on our way to the Grey Havens," Gandalf said as he led the Elves to the front door of Bag End. "Frodo will not be making the journey with us. But he will find peace sooner than any here assembled."  
  
Sam accompanied them outside into the night. "Goodbye Mister Gandalf, sir," he sniffled. "I hope you won't think too hard on me. I was just doin' what I thought right by Mister Frodo, that's all."  
  
"Samwise Gamgee," Gandalf stopped and laid his gnarled hand on Sam's shoulders, "your father named you truly. You are more Wise than you know. Follow your heart and you will never go wrong. Stay with him to the end, then rejoice in his memory. Love your life here on Middle Earth, and treasure the gift he gave you. When the time comes, you too may be forced to decide between the release of death and the healing of the Blessed Realm. But follow your heart to the end as he has done."  
  
The three immortals vanished into the night as Sam went back inside the smial. Merry and Pippin hugged him as he came into the kitchen where they had been waiting.  
  
"Pip," Sam said, "he wants to see you next."  
  
"By myself?" Pippin choked. "What...what if I say something wrong? Can't I go in with Merry or with you?" Pippin was plainly afraid.  
  
"No," Sam admonished, "just yourself. Don't be afraid of him. He's still our beloved Frodo. He's just got things to say only to you. The doc will be in the room with you, but you can say anythin' in front o' her. Best be getting in. Don't tire him out though."  
  
Pippin crept into the room. To his surprise Frodo had his head propped up on a couple of pillows and was actually looking at him. His eyes! His blue eyes were unclouded. "Maybe it was a false alarm. Maybe he will be all right," Pippin thought as he came over to the bedside. "Hello, Frodo. You're looking better."  
  
Frodo smiled at his naive friend. "Thank you, Pippin. But I do not have much time and there is so much to say. Please come and take my hand. I am going to ask you to swear an oath."  
  
Pippin nervously took Frodo's hand in his. "What do you want me to do, Frodo? I would do anything for you."  
  
"I know you would, Pippin, dear," Frodo said, searching Pippin's open face. "I want you to swear you will remember your duty to the King. You are to safeguard the Shire and to restore the friendship between hobbits and Men, between the Shire and Gondor. Remember your duty, and when the time comes for you to leave the Shire, you will find friends in Gondor. Swear this to me."  
  
Pippin became very serious. "I swear by my oath as a solder in the King's Guard, by my honor in wearing the silver and the black, and by my love for you, I shall remember my duty to the King of Gondor. I shall safeguard the Shire. I shall restore friendship between our people and Men." He broke down and started crying. "And I shall love you always."  
  
"Thank you Peregrin Took, loyal member of the Fellowship of the Ring, beloved friend, and future Thain," Frodo whispered. "Send in Merry, please."  
  
Pippin kissed Frodo on the cheek and strode out of the room, trying to control his weeping. Merry was waiting outside the door in anticipation. Pippin nodded at him as Sam took the crying young hobbit back into the kitchen.  
  
Merry came over to the side of the bed and kissed Frodo's hand. He waited patiently as Frodo was given some water. Iris moved to the far corner of the room.  
  
"Merry, you are the Shire's guardian," Frodo said. "Keep the watch on the Eastern and Southern borders. The Elves are leaving Middle Earth and Men will soon take over what was Rivendale, the Old Forest and even Mirkwood. They will come up out of the South and from the East. Secure the borders, make allies with the folk from Bree, and keep our people safe. But remember your friendship with the Riders of Rohan. Not every Man is an enemy, nor is every hobbit a true friend. Temper your judgment with compassion. Remember that compassion is not weakness."  
  
"I will use your life as my example," Merry declared with a passion that surprised himself. "We will never forget you, Frodo. Farewell, my cousin and my friend." Merry kissed Frodo and the cheek and left the room.  
  
The little room was quiet except for Frodo's faint breathing. Iris wiped the tears from her face and tried to banish her emotions into one corner of her mind. But it was useless. The tears continued to come unbidden. Frodo called her over to his side.  
  
"Iris," he whispered, "I believe you were sent to me as a gift. To heal my mind and prepare me for this day. You saved my life. I would have killed myself a long time ago if not for you and Sam."  
  
Frodo gasped as a sudden wave of pain overtook his desire to communicate. He closed his eyes and held his breath as Iris held his head and hand.  
  
She felt so helpless, so ineffectual. Through her tears she asked, "Frodo, please? May I give you something to help with the pain? Please let me try."  
  
"No. No more," he said. "It is passing. My time has come. There is no more pain now. But quickly now... Lord Elrond's gift of sight is fading. Where is Sam?"  
  
Iris called Sam into the room and left them alone.  
  
"Sam, my dearest friend," Frodo struggled to see. "Sam, finish the book. Talk to Iris when your memories cause you pain. But finish the book as only you can. Send a copy to Minas Tirith - to the King. Sam, I wear a gem around my neck. Please take it."  
  
Sam cried as he did Frodo's bidding. Around Frodo's neck was a slender silver chain and a brilliant white gem. The act of removing it from around his master's neck almost brought Sam to the point of madness. It reminded him so much of the terrible time in Cirith Ungol when he thought Frodo was dead from Shelob's sting. Sam chose to remove the One Ring from around Frodo's neck at that blackest of hours in order to complete the Quest in the only way he knew how. Later Sam found out that Frodo was only paralyzed from the monster's sting, and he would recover. This time it was for real. Frodo was truly dying. There would be no miracle.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo continued. "This is from Arwen. I bequeath it to you in honor of your place by my side as a fellow Ringbearer. Wear it always. It is a talisman for your passage to the Blessed Realm, should you desire to go across the Western Seas. If you choose to not travel across the Seas, have the gem returned to the King."  
  
Frodo paused to catch his breath. He was so tired...so tired. There was still one thing more to do.  
  
"Sam, look in the top drawer of my writing table. You will find a document in there."  
  
Sam located a scroll tied with a blue ribbon and sealed in red wax. It was a legal document.  
  
"Is this what you want, Mister Frodo?"  
  
"Yes. Sam, that is my will. You are named my heir. It is witnessed by Mayor Will Whitfoot himself."  
  
Sam could take it no longer. "Don't leave me, sir! Don't leave your Sam. You promised to not go where your Sam couldn't follow. I made a promise to Mister Gandalf that I wouldn't leave you, and I haven't. I kept my promise. But now you're leavin' me. It ain't fair! Don't go!" He broke down and cried into the bed sheets.  
  
Frodo looked at Sam with the deepest love and understanding shining in his eyes. "You will follow me, Sam. But not for a long time. I am tired. Let me rest now.  
  
Sam, write the ending to the book any way you desire. Write it for Elanor and Frodo-lad and your other children. Finish it so that the Ringbearers all travel over the Western Sea and are united in the Undying Lands. Do not have my illness in the story. Write that you and me and Bilbo are healed and whole. Make up a happy, hopeful ending, for that is the way I depart this world."  
  
As Sam stood by, holding Frodo's hand and crying, Frodo closed his eyes one last time. His breathing became gentle and steady, and after a few minutes, stopped altogether.  
  
The Ringbearer had died. 


End file.
